I'll Give You All My Futures
by themis.ceres
Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm uploading this for a friend who doesn't have an account but this is such a great story that I had to help! Every review will be forwarded on to her so I hope you guys enjoy!**

**Summary: **Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.****

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><p><span>I'll Give You All My Futures<span>

**Chapter 1: ****The Thin Line Between Genius and Insanity**

_"He can't believe it, he says people seem even more interested in this than the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!" -__Luna Lovegood_

**February, 2003**

Hermione Granger sighed as she twirled her quill between her fingers. How she had been convinced to come to this gathering, she would never know. The convention of witches and wizards in the room were milling about were some of the most ostracized in the wizarding world. A witch walked past her jangling with overpriced glass crystals, talking to a small hand mirror that she held in her left hand. She was going to kill Ginny and Harry. A scowl was starting to make its way on her face as she narrowly ducked under a wizard trying to control a flying creature on a leash that she couldn't possibly identify. Definitely illegal breeding, she thought as the scowl definitely manifested itself as she followed him with her eyes as he disappeared into the milling crowd, making a mental note.

"Hermione!"

Turning quickly with a smile, Hermione felt supreme relief at seeing Luna walking towards her. Seeing her in her everyday robes was still somewhat of a shock to her. Today Luna was wearing powder-blue floor length robes with rather ostentatiously stitched stars in shining red thread. Hermione truly pitied the one who had originally thought that they wouldn't cause a migraine for anyone looking at them. Luna clasped Hermione's hands with her customary smile that seemed to reflect on what was going on in her head than in front of her face.

"We're so glad that you could come to my father's presentation. It's quite his best one yet you understand. He wouldn't even put it in _The Quibbler_until he presented it. He's so excited on what they'll all say," Luna said excitedly, at least for her, since her voice never rose.

Hermione managed a smile, and started absentmindedly twirling her quill between her fingers again as soon as Luna had released her hands, "You know Luna, I don't even know what he's going to speak about."

"That's the surprise for everyone you know. Here, Daddy reserved a seat for you up front," Luna said, steering her past a rather rotund witch that, after she looked back, realized was actually a wizard.

So much for hiding in the back rows that she could slip out early. Settling her mauve colored robes around her, Hermione sat in the seat that was rather obnoxiously calling out her name.

"It'll stop as soon as you sit down," Luna had explained. "Unless you weren't you. Then it would start screaming."

For some reason, she couldn't shake the awful feeling that something wrong was going to happen here. The war had been over for years now, granted four years, but that was the only type of feeling that she could possibly compare it too. She began to nervously tap her quill against the pad that she now had propped on her knees.

"Psst."

Hermione turned, slightly annoyed to find a tiny wizard behind her, his eyes flitting around the room. He shook his head at her.

"You're frightening the nargles," he said, pointing upwards as his head twitched.

Hermione turned forward abruptly, biting her lip angrily. Blast it all, when I find Harry, I'll throttle him, she thought. Sitting here with a bunch of ninny-minded, ignorant, _stupid_… Thankfully her inner tirade was cut off by a blast of pea-soup colored and scented smoke that clouded over the audience from the short stage in front of the line of chairs.

Coughing and sputtering, Hermione waved a hand in front of her now tearing eyes to see Luna's father appear on the stage, seemingly unaffected by his own entrance.

"Welcome friends!" Xenophilius Lovegood, called to thunderous applause from his audience.

He waited until they calmed and the smoke cleared completely before he began his speech. He made his way about the stage in a strange prancing, hopping manner, that Hermione thought clearly matched his neon green robes, white hair, and crossed blue eyes.

"We shall now be discussing a topic that I have spent the last several years, nay, decades, attempting to study. The wizarding world has always sought to study the different facets of time, but they have neglected a very important occurrence! I have chosen to go forward in this research to further better the lives of my fellow colleagues in spirit. I have chosen the most elusive occurrences to study within time! Time Rips!"

Murmured awe swept through the crowd as Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes skyward. Time Rips were an illusion that some wizarding scholars sought to study for funding from institutions and universities. In the end, the so-called "scholars" turned in their research to university that was entirely rubbish after living all-expense paid years in comfortable housing with ample food. Even thinking this though, Hermione whispered the spell so that her inkless quill, spelled by herself, began to transcribe his speech to her pad.

"For centuries, Time Rips were impossible to detect until I made a very valuable discovery, some fifteen years or so ago. The actualities of Time Rips are this, we should not be able to detect them! And in this, I discovered how. Since we are in this stream of time," Hermione glanced behind him to where a glowing board akin to a Muggle blackboard, now had a stream of solid gold pulsing in a horizontal line behind him, "there is no way for us to notice Rips. But certain people," a black dot appeared on the pulsing line, "_cause_Time Rips."

Hermione frowned and leaned forward slightly in her chair. She'd never actually heard this theory before.

"Up until now, Time Rips were either quickly dismissed or thought to occur because of events. Hartlis Diertwater once thought that they were caused by rising zodiac constellations paired with unusual activities of unicorns," some heads in the audience nodded sagely at this, "But in truth, Rips are caused by us!

"Monumental decisions made by _individuals_can cause Rips and this is how I discovered it. Regretfully I must say, and will not tell you the circumstances, but with the aid of this device," he held up a momentous hourglass hung about his neck that looked to be ornate faux jewelry when Hermione had first seen it. "A Time Rip was able to take place before my eyes! And quite a powerful Rip it was!"

Hermione could barely hide a smirk at that.

"Now to actually track these Rips, I went back to Ancient Greece where it gave me my first clue. Documented Ancient Greece of course," he chortled a bit, "When one of the few Oracles at Delphi, one reputed to have the best predictions, suddenly disappeared. A simple disappearance to those who do not know what to look for! Before her so-called disappearance, she gave a prediction to the King of Crete that would later cause him to lose a war, but before she told him her interpretation of her own prediction, she wrote – _I shall do everything in my power to make this not come about_– but it did, because he went to war and his armies slaughtered mercilessly.

"About the Oracle? I tell you this, gathered friends, she did convince the King! The event of telling him actually caused a rip in time," behind him the gold line split and the black dot jumped to the other golden stream, "which led him to stay and home and conquer the invading force which was to come!

"The Oracle was actually a reputed witch who did not need hallucinogens for her predictions, she rather relied on divination. When she caused that Rip, she left our stream of time for another, for the person causing the Rip cannot exist in two different streams of time."

Hermione's mind was whirling at the possibilities. She had always been intrigued by the Muggle theory of multiple parallel dimensions, his theory wasn't actually that far off. He continued to speak, but now she was lost in her own head, thinking of the research that she could do at home, the books that she could use to find out what to look for… The books she could _write_… The quill on her pad scribbled on, pausing only long enough to jab her hand to make her turn the page.

Her joyous prospects of research were brought to a screaming halt as her eyes caught her left hand.

_"I know it's not much, but Bill already got Granny Weasley's ring and…"_

_Hermione stopped him with a quiet hand on his arm. "It's perfect Ron. It's better."_

The tiny gold engagement band held only a single tiny ruby. It was pretty and sentimentally sweet, but predictable. She hated how disappointed she was because it was just so _her _and she wasn't sure she liked that. But she _was_practical, wasn't she?

She began pushing it around her finger. Ron had never liked it when she lost herself in shelves of books. Accepting his proposal hadn't changed how he felt about it either. Not touching books constantly was leading to a lot of nervous habits, she was noticing, as she firmly stopped playing with her ring. She could do some research. It wouldn't kill him.

Thunderous applause tore open the room as Mr. Lovegood started bowing on the stage. Much to her own surprise, Hermione joined in.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.**

A/N (Veronika): I'm so amazingly surprised that people noticed this from the first chapter, it certainly pushed me forward to finish this one right away. Thanks of course to who puts up with me in all of my crazy ways. Enjoy!  
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I'll Give You All My Futures

**Chapter 2: The Thin Line Between Genius and Insanity**

_It's a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up. - J.K. Rowling_; Goblet of Fire

_**Five Months Ago**_** September, 2002**

Maybe Hermione was just getting bored with her job, but there really were some days when she longed for the days of danger that had encompassed every year of her life at Hogwarts. If it wasn't for the variety of magical creature histories she had lying about her small flat she would definitely be bored. There just wasn't enough work for her here. After the major breakthrough that her team had made in developing a confidential messaging system for magical creatures in unwanted servitude, Hermione had almost no work. It made it difficult to go into work some days.

Leaning back in her desk chair, she closed her eyes with a sigh. Suddenly she sat up abruptly, breathing quickly. Rubbing her chest, she felt her heart pound wildly in her chest. She'd gotten something similar a few months ago, but it hadn't lasted this long.

"Hermione, you alright?"

"Belinda," Hermione said, spinning quickly to one of her fellow workers, "Yes, I'm fine."

Whatever the flutter was, it had passed. The conversation quickly turned to the three claims that had been made over the weekend that their department had to go over and address. Two house elves and a goblin. The paperwork was tedious, but she would actually have to do some legwork on the one house elf case. At least it was something.

_**Four Months Ago**_** October, 2002**

Preparations for Halloween were in full swing at the Burrow. Molly had really outdone herself. Paper bats occasionally took off from the rafters if you startled them too quickly. Pumpkins sang rather obnoxious lyrics. Orange and black decorations were everywhere. Hermione loved her parents' world, but really, no one did Halloween like a witch. It made her giddy that it was only a week away.

"Hermione! So glad you came to help dear. You know the way the boys will be when it's actually time for the party. Drive me half mad and back again," Molly said, bustling her in.

Ever since she and Ron had started really dating, and honestly ever since Harry and Ginny had gotten married, Mrs. Weasley would use any little excuse to invite her over the Burrow. Even if it was chaotic she didn't really mind. She was starting to mind the looks though that, at this point, Ron seemed to be getting at every possible opportunity.

"And Merlin's beard, when the children get here," Molly said as she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Hermione to look around for places to clean.

Since she had been to help last Christmas, the two witches had an understanding of sorts. Hermione was still very Muggle when it came to things like cooking. Her mother loved that the only magic Hermione actually used in the house was to clean dishes, both women found it to be the most tedious chore. Since Mrs. Weasley worked wonders with kitchen magic, and with so many to feed all the time it was little wonder, Hermione took charge of cleaning the rooms.

As she spelled two sweaters, one sock, three pairs of boots, and a stack of opened Weasley products, to the laundry, back porch, and garbage respectively she couldn't help but wonder if it was time.

Halloween would be an easy holiday for her parents to meet the Weasley clan. Her father was a bit uncomfortable about magic, ever since the Final Battle. Though her mother had understood, even accepted, her daughter's decision but realizing that they had lived an entire year as other people had hit her father very hard. It had taken awhile before they were able to talk like they had before. She knew that her father would warm to Mr. Weasley quickly enough though.

"Mum, Dad?"

Hermione grinned as excited yells echoed throughout the house. Ginny's arrival always had that reaction.

As she rounded the corner, she saw the younger woman completely engulfed in one of her mother's hugs. When Hermione caught her friend's eye over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder she mouthed an exaggerated 'help me'.

Ever since Ginny had started touring with the Holyhead Harpies she'd barely had enough time for her honeymoon, much less too many house visits. That was one distinct advantage to magical life, Hermione thought with a grin. With the exceptions of match games of course, Ginny was able to apparate from wherever she was to spend her nights at home with Harry.

"Marriage and Quidditch really do suit you, you know that right?" Hermione said with a grin after Mrs. Weasley released her daughter to run back into the kitchen to silence an alarm.

It did suit her. Ginny still maintained the figure she'd had in school, though her arms and legs were now toned with strong and limber muscle from being a Chaser. Her hair was pulled back in a tail, jeans showed off her legs, and the navy sweater helped to show off her more mature curves.

Ginny grinned, "Harry's really been fantastic about it. I think it's only because he likes to brag about the box seats I let him give away to his co-workers. Like he couldn't get them on his own with a flash of his bloody forehead."

"I heard that Ginerva! Mind your mouth!"

Both women laughed before Ginny followed Hermione upstairs to help with the cleaning.

"Where is Harry anyway? I'd assumed with a Burrow visit, he'd be coming with you," Hermione said, charming a broom and tray to start sweeping.

"Funny thing that," Ginny said, sitting on her old bed. "He got this _look_on his face when he got the message to go in. Aurors do work funny hours sometimes, you know."

"As funny as Quidditch players?" Hermione asked, going to sit next to her.

"Ya, and almost as dangerous," Ginny said with a frown.

Silence fell as both of their minds turned towards darker thoughts.

"Sorry, didn't mean to do that," Ginny said after a second. "Happy thoughts, it's almost Halloween. How are things getting on with that git brother of mine. He proposed yet?"

"Ginny!" Hermione half yelled with a grin.

"Don't be like that, you know you're thinking it," Ginny said as she stood, levitating the now finished broom to follow the two of them to the next room. "Besides, it's almost embarrassing that he hasn't asked you yet- I know he wants to. Such a bloody slow mover!"

"GINERVA!" Molly Weasley's voice echoed from downstairs.

Ginny paused in the hall. "You know, it's been _years_and I still don't know how she does that."

Hermione laughed as they went into the room that Bill and Fleur would be staying in. Bill had been able to get a few days so they'd be in early with the baby. Transfiguring the extra chest of drawers into a crib, Hermione nudged Ginny to start with the sweeping. Downstairs, they heard another commotion as someone arrived through the Floo.

"I can't help if I'm not really ready yet either," Hermione said. "I mean, he's met my parents, they approve and all, but they haven't really met everyone here yet you know?"

Ginny gave her a sideways grin, "You know who I think I hear downstairs now? Maybe I should just bully him into it."

"Gin, don't," Hermione started, but Ginny was already off, running for the stairs with Hermione close behind.

Hermione managed to catch up to her on the stairs, but nearly ran into her at the foot of them. Harry and Mrs. Weasley were talking at the entrance to the kitchen. When Molly looked at her, Hermione knew something terrible had happened. Harry wouldn't meet her eyes. Her heart almost stopped, worried that Ron had been hurt somehow. Her panic doubled though when Ron came into view, his eyes red and full of tears that hadn't fallen yet.

"Ron?" Hermione asked.

"I'm so sorry Hermione, you've gotta believe me," Ron said, almost choking on the words.

"Ron, you're scaring me, what's happened?" she asked, going to stand in front of him.

"We got a tip with a location on the Carrows," Harry said, Ginny going over and slipping under his arm. "Some… anonymous source. We get them sometimes. It said what the target would be, but, we... We didn't get there in time."

"Where? What target? In time for what?" Hermione asked, her voice rising as little voices of denial and panic started screaming in her head. She turned to look at Ron.

He took a shaky breath in, "Your parents Hermione. They targeted your house."

_**Three Months Ago**_** November, 2002**

Everyone had been surprised when Hermione returned to work the week after Halloween. Everyone, surprisingly, but Ginny. The now Mrs. Potter had simply told her that if she needed someone to talk to who wasn't Ron, her door was open. Hermione had even gotten a reassurance that Harry would allow himself to be kicked out at a moment's notice if necessary, which had startled her into a laugh. Ginny was the only one who wasn't treating her like she was made of glass, ready to break if they said or did something wrong. So she was also the one who supported her when she went back to work.

"It's an easy way to make yourself not think about bad things," Ginny had said. "Keeps you focused on the little things. Things that matter, but that distract you from having to deal with everything else."

The Weasleys had offered her a room at the Burrow for her to stay in if she didn't want to be alone. She'd refused. She didn't want to walk past their pitying faces at every turn. Or to have the reminder of Ron still living there. Maybe if her independence hadn't prompted her to get her own flat then…

Hermione found herself wiping away a tear, even though she'd sworn that she wouldn't cry at work. She had tried to keep the news as contained as possible, but it wasn't everyday Muggles were killed under the Dark Mark. Not these days. Their deaths had made the papers.

What had made it worse was the fact that there hadn't even been bodies to bury. The wards hadn't even been tripped. They had come, set her world upside down, and vanished. If it hadn't been for the trace spells lingering in the air for the Aurors to pick up it would have almost been like they had gone on holiday. Except her mother would never have left the kettle on. And her father would never have left a book he was in the middle of behind.

Hermione had sworn. She had sworn that no one she knew would be killed after the war. It had been bad enough cleaning up and burying the bodies after the Battle of Hogwarts. Now? Now she didn't even have gravestones for them.

Her extended family didn't understand. She didn't even want to explain it to them. None of them knew she was a witch. None of them knew that her parents were gone because she was Hermione Granger, witch, fighter in the Second Wizarding War that brought down Voldemort. She had had to go through the Muggle system, file a police report, talk to officers. Talk to her family. Listen to their hopes that they would be found. That they were missing, presumed kidnapped for reasons unknown.

She hadn't believed it at first either. She had demanded to see the Auror reports. She went over the spells. Spells that lined up as connecting with bodies. A Muggle recipient of a spell glowed a different color than a wizard or witch. Torture spells had connected with Muggles. But though two Killing Curses had been cast, it didn't show the color signature of the recipients. Everyone assumed… Looking at the evidence, she knew what they assumed. It wasn't carved in an iron placard, but even Hermione had to admit how fruitless a search would be.

Sighing, Hermione propped elbows on her desk and rested her head in her hands. The world wasn't built on if onlys. They were gone. She had to move on. Even as she coached those thoughts in her head, she still had to keep swallowing down tears.

Hermione jumped suddenly as her heart started racing again. Her breathing quickened to match it as she looked around, trying to see if anyone else was reacting the same way. Closing her eyes, she tried slowing her breathing down. _In and out, come on Hermione, calm down,_ she coached. Eventually it passed. Looking at the time piece she kept in her desk corner, she frowned. This one had been longer. She had dismissed the first one as nothing, but two? Shaking her head, she tried to concentrate on work. There were reports to file and paperwork to fill out. Maybe she could convince her boss that she was in fact, _fine_, and he would let her go out interviewing today.

_**Two Months Ago**_** December, 2002**

The weeks approaching Christmas were the hardest. Hermione couldn't bring herself to decorate. All of her ornaments, even her tree, had been in her parents' house. She found herself crying at stupid things. Like putting tea on the stove, the Muggle way. It had always been her way, but now it felt like her mother's way. Officially, the Grangers were still listed as missing. It would be that way for months. Officially. She almost thought it would be easier if they _had_found bodies. Thinking that though made her want to cry again.

A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Walking over, she found herself almost chanting, _don't be Ron, don't be Ron, don't be Ron._

Ron had been wonderful. He came over at the perfect interval with food wrapped up with love from Molly Weasley. He surprised her with flowers at work "for no reason in particular." Every so often, he'd pop by with plans to go see a show, or just dinner. The one that had surprised her the most had been a lecture in the beginning of November on new ways of constructing Potions using Elvenlark. But every time, she had to put up with _the_face. The face that told her he was weighing every word that came out of his mouth. The face that told her every time he looked at her he blamed himself. The face that pitied her, and himself.

Checking the peephole, Hermione relaxed back with a sigh.

"I brought wine, cheesecake, and chess," Ginny said with a smile. "We need a girls' night."

Hermione smiled, "Thanks Gin, come on in."

Thankfully, Ginny let her pretend that nothing was wrong. She wasn't sure how hard Ginny had to act to keep it up, but Hermione was grateful just the same. They giggled over details about Harry and Ron that both men would probably have been both shocked and embarrassed if they found out had been shared.

"Ugh, I'm so glad he stopped doing that," Ginny said with a laugh as she refilled both of their glasses. "Mum used to want to clock him over the head with a broom when she caught him. Seriously, clipping toenails at the kitchen table? It was disgusting, let me tell you."

Hermione shuddered, "I agree."

"So what's going on with you two now? Has he been good?"

Hermione swirled the wine around in her glass. "As good as can be expected I guess. I snapped at him a few times when I really shouldn't have. He made comments about me continuously reading, of all things. I said a few things that I shouldn't have. It was a long day, and I've been working on it. I don't read when he comes over to visit really anymore."

"How's that going?" Ginny asked, grabbing another bite of cheesecake.

"Better," Hermione said, "Better with us anyway. I mean, it's harder when he stays over, because it's longer that I go without it. It's how I relax, you know? I don't know. Am I being unreasonable?"

"No, not at all!" Ginny said. "I think he's being a bit of a prick about it actually. It's not like he can say that this wasn't who you were before."

"Have you and Harry had any spats like that?" Hermione asked, almost not believing that she was asking for advice from the girl she had actually _given_advice to about her now husband.

The soft and almost dreamy smile that crossed Ginny's face made her feel a stab of envy.

"Not really. I mean, I've been myself, from start to finish. Well," Ginny nudged her, "Ever since I took your advice to relax. Spot on, by the way. Harry just accepts me and I accept him. I've never really seen him as anything but who he was. I mean ya, there was a time that I had an absolutely huge crush on him that wasn't based in reality by any stretch of the imagination, but when I actually got to know him, really know him? That's when I started respecting who he was and admiring what he could do. There was a time when I thought he was being a right prick too, don't get me wrong, but… He worked past it. He got through it. And then he saw me.

"From what I've found, guys… Guys need to get it together first. Girls can't help them. Girls can't change them. They change when they're ready, not even when we need them to. They don't change for girls. They change, and then they're open to the right girl. Does that make sense?"

Hermione grinned sheepishly, looking at the carpet they sat on, "When did you get so wise?"

Ginny laughed. "You helped. And Mum. And Harry too, though sometimes only in spite of himself. Also, when you have a lot of bad relationships, you learn to know what you're looking for. And what you never, ever, want to have again. Harry was there right when I decided what I wanted. It was a small miracle it itself actually. And he didn't have any of the things I wasn't looking for. And he had almost everything I did."

"Almost everything?" Hermione asked.

"I had to teach him how to give a good massage. He was horrid at it at first," Ginny said with such a straight face that Hermione couldn't help laughing.

Seconds later Ginny joined in.

Hermione had actually been anxious at Ginny's invitation over to the Burrow for dinner the next night, but she knew that her promises were sincere.

"Hermione, I solemnly swear that no one will treat you like a delicate china cup for the entire night. I made them all promise. It'll be a beautiful bubble of fine, I promise you," she had said, toasting her with her wine glass.

As she bundled up to apparate (she had a working Floo, but she preferred snow to Floo powder on her robes any day), she still wasn't sure. She wasn't sure why, but she'd dressed up a little for the occasion. It wasn't Christmas yet, but she was determined to not let anything ruin her holiday. Or ruin anything for that matter. She'd come to that realization the other night. If she let the actions of some good for nothing Death Eating sympathizers, or Death Eaters in truth, depress her, or keep her down, it was like letting them win twice. She'd let them win once. They wouldn't get her again.

When she saw the reaction to her outfit when she walked in the door, she knew that she'd made the right choice. Shaking snow off her outer robe, she grinned as a bunch of male redheads had their jaws drop.

"Hermione, you look…" Ron started.

"Amazing, he means to say amazing," George said with a grin, coming up and clocking his brother on the back of the head.

From behind the boys, she saw Ginny wink on Harry's arm. The dress had been Ginny's idea. They had gone shopping on one of her free days. The dress was casual, technically, in fabric. It was a cotton blended with something magical, because it was warm enough to wear out in even this weather. But that's where the practicality ended. It only swirled over one shoulder and hugged her tight all the way down to her hips only to flar out with an uneven hem . The left side had as small flare of fabric at her ankle, the right went up to her knee. The fabric was actually longer at the back as well, keeping the length almost until the side hem. It was also a brilliant Christmas red.

"How've you been George?" Hermione asked with a smile, receiving a hug and a kiss from the older Weasley.

"Perfect as ever I'll have you know. Even better since my brother finally got his ghost name." George said with a grin. "Cause you know, no ghost gets their own, of course. Humans give 'em out. And most ghosts hate 'em."

"Do I even want to know?" Hermione asked.

"DEAD FRED!" Fred yelled, popping into existence behind his twin. "How unoriginal _ARE_people?"

"Aren't you supposed to keep to the shop?" George asked, "Aint it some kind of rule?"

"I'm not haunting the bloody shop," Fred continued, following George as he left the room.

"It gets weirder and weirder, believe me," Ron said. "And you do look… amazing, Hermione. Really, you do."

"Thanks Ron," Hermione said with a smile, reaching in for a hug and quick peck before their audience could make comments. "You don't look so bad yourself, what's the occasion?"

"Hm? Oh! No occasion," Ron said, a bit nervously. "Come in more though, you're hands are freezing."

Dinner passed exactly as Ginny had promised. No one brought up Death Eaters, Aurors, her parents, the holidays, and most importantly, no one looked at her like she was an abandoned puppy.

"Come on then George, help with the dishes," Mrs. Weasley said.

"You know what the worst part about Fred being all ghostly now?" George asked, leaning over to whisper in Hermione's ear.

"What?" she whispered back.

"We can't pretend to be each other anymore, she knows I have to be George."

"GEORGE!" Mrs. Weasley called again.

"Yes Majesty!" he answered , winking at Hermione and going to follow the crowd.

"Hermione?"

Hermione stopped stacking dishes to look back at Ron whose ears were slowly turning redder by the second.

"Yes, Ron, what's the matter?"

"C'mere a second, I want to show you something," he said taking her hand.

Letting herself be led away with only a half-hearted protest, "she won't mind, believe me, I've been working overtime for her this past week", he led her to the added back porch of the Burrow.

Faelights had been strung up and conjured into all of the trees along the back. Evergreens had been sporadically transported around the grounds, strung with more of the blinking lights. It was the peaceful kind of cold where they could see their breath and see the snow, but not feel immediately frozen.

"Watch," he said with a shy smile. "Try not to critique it too much."

Flicking his wand and muttering something under his breath, the lights began to dance. The yellow glowing lights flickered in and out, as if to music, red chased some of the yellow lights, blinking in and out of existence. Green lights started appearing, joining the rest of the dance in the trees.

"Ron, it's amazing!" Hermione said with a smile.

Poinsettias began blooming in lights on the trees, then spinning. Slowly, each flower folded in one by one, leaving the yard in darkness.

"That was amazing," Hermione said, turning to him.

"It's not done yet," he said, nodding back to the trees.

Turning with a grin, she watched as the lights started appearing again, white lights started writing in the snow this time, making the snow glow.

_Marry Me, Hermione_.

Gasping she turned back to find Ron on one knee next to her. Grinning up at her, he opened the small velvet box, letting the soft porch lights fall on the ring.

"I know we've been having some trouble, but my feelings haven't changed. Will you?"

Smiling now, almost ready to cry, Hermione nodded, "Yes, yes I will."

With a happy yell, he stood and swooped her up in his arms. Her lips met his, parting quickly to his warm mouth. Behind them, they heard catcalls and cheers from inside the house, making them break apart, Hermione blushing fiercely despite the cold. He chuckled, resting his forehead on hers.

"Sorry about that, crazy people. We'll move far away," Ron whispered.

Hermione sniffed and shook her head, making him laugh. Pulling away a bit, he held out the ring, taking her offered left hand, he slipped it on.

"I know it's not much, but Bill already got Granny Weasley's ring and…"

Hermione stopped him with a quiet hand on his arm. "It's perfect Ron. It's better."

He smiled and kissed her again. Seizing in his arms, she felt her heart take off again racing making it hard to breathe.

"Hermione?" Ron pulled back. "Hermione? Hermione?"

She fainted clean away.

Of course the next day she was subjected to the customary Weasley teasing, and Ron even more so, for making her faint right after agreeing to marrying him. It was _lovely_...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.**

A/N (Veronika): Thanks of course to themis. ceres, my beautiful beta :) **_**

I'll Give You All My Futures

**Chapter 3: A Curious and Curiouser World**

"_Apparently she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler." - Hermione Granger_

**February, 2003**

After his presentation the crowd had swarmed passed her towards the charmed speaker, Hermione stood quickly and sought to get out of the press of bodies. Luna had found her and escorted her to her father's private laboratory so that her father could ask and answer questions.

Walking around the room staring at the various objects lining walls and tables, some on their own stands, she was thoroughly baffled. Some of the trinkets looked delicate and harmless but she remembered what Luna had once told her, that her mother had died in an experiment gone wrong in front of her and her father. Walking along, she watched as her reflection was caught in several strange mirrors on one wall. Frowning, she leaned into one as she looked at herself.

Her hair had been pulled back and up in a twist, strictly controlled with clips and tiny combs. It took forever, but the end result was definitely worth it. Sighing, she wandered down the room. Reaching the end, Hermione leaned forward. This mirror was black and fogged. Moving so that she faced in front of it she saw that the smoke was clearing, but it wasn't her face that she saw. Gasping she staggered backwards and away from it, almost tripping on the end of her robes.

"Strange," a voice came from behind her. "It hasn't worked for anyone but me even after all these years of experimenting."

Hermione swallowed and clutched her pad and quill to her chest as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart. Why had she seen that? Seen _him?_

"If you don't mind me asking Mr. Lovegood," she began, trying to calm her furiously beating heart, "What _is_ it?"

He approached the mirror that was once again black with smoke, a thoughtful expression on his face- the most serious that she'd ever seen on him. Perhaps it was because his eye was focused forward as he stood staring into the mirror. A smile came onto his face as he stared at the glass. Finally, he turned away, once again ease in oddness.

"I was trying to invent a way for people to see their soulmates, drawing of course from Ibid's extensive use of mirrors. I thought I had it working some years ago when my late wife's face finally peered out at me. Unfortunately, it's never worked correctly with anyone else. For experiment's sake, what did you see?"

Hermione swallowed hard. There was no way she was admitting what she'd seen.

"Ah," he said sagely, nodding, "Something odd yes? Luna says that she sees a strange looking rabbit jackelthrope every time. Hard for that to be a soulmate then, eh?"

"Strange indeed," Hermione said, somewhat calmer now. So it didn't work. It couldn't possibly work. Why was she somehow disappointed at that thought? Shaking her head, she knew that Ron had been right all those years ago. She still didn't have her priorities in order.

She didn't have much time to dwell on it because Mr. Lovegood was bustling about in an attempt to make tea and it seemed like just a moment later she was seated on a rather outrageous looking cushion beside a low table, that she was quickly assured was only faux dragon skin, "the actual stuff is far too barbaric and expensive to buy".

After the politeness had passed Hermione set down her cup, she tried to relax into the cushion but was finding it a quite impossible feat.

"So you said that you actually witnessed a time rip then Mr. Lovegood?"

He smiled at her, "I did indeed my dear."

Baffled, but nevertheless trying to gather as much information as she could from the incredibly unbelievable source, she pressed on.

"Would you tell me who it was? You were saying how it's people who cause time rips?"

"Precisely, more specifically witches. I don't believe I've ever crossed acome, come across, my apologies, any wizard inducing Time Rips. They have been all female thus far in my research."

"But who was it, Mr. Lovegood?" Hermione asked, quickly getting frustrated with the man, "It was clearly in your lifetime, correct? What did she do?"

"Call me Xenophilius my dear, no pomp and circumstance here," he said with a smile.

She was assuredly going to strangle him. Trying desperately to keep herself calm, she was interrupted from contemplating the several different ways to transfigure him into something shatterable by Luna entering the room behind her. It cut off the tirade that had threatened to burst out of her instantly.

"I think it would be best if you told her," Luna's whispery voice carried shockingly well in the room.

Xenophilius sighed, "Very well, I thought I was doing quite well in building up the suspense but no matter."

Setting down his teacup, he looked at her (with his uncrossed eye), "It was you, my dear."

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked.

Xenophilius smiled, "Well, there seemed to be many branches of what could be called splits in time due to the war. So many different outcomes possible, and all that bishcosh. But there seemed to be indicators of something greater than that, a rip in time. But," he said holding up one finger, "I didn't find it. Something happened around the great battle yes, but! It was closer to home that I found it. Searching through the use of runes and in consultation with several different sources on the importance's of constellations, I identified the location that I could see this wonderful rip. Shockingly, right outside my home! It was a walk, but well worth it. It _was_ a sight to see."

Hermione had been pacing for the past two minutes at least. Though she wasn't writing anything down, her right hand still held her quill, carelessly flicking the feather against her robes. She was so engrossed that she hadn't noticed that there had still been a few flecks of ink left over on the nib of the quill, now the dots were splattered on the robes.

"Hermione?"

Her head abruptly snapped up to look at Luna, whose words had broken through her train of thought. Xenophilius had apparently left the room, though the garish Time Turner he carried was still left on his seat.

"I'm sure that you'll know what to do; so you really shouldn't worry should you?" Luna asked.

Hermione just stared at her for a moment, temporarily at a loss for words, before she resumed pacing, still flicking her quill against her robes while her left hand nervously twisted her still new ring.

She couldn't change everything about the past, like strangling Riddle in his crib… She stopped pacing for a moment. No, she doubted that she could do that. She resumed pacing. So _first_, she thought, isolate a possible event great enough to split time.

Riddle's first rise to power as Voldemort. Well that would be a crucial point in history, to be certain, but what would she be, what would Harry be if that happened? If Riddle was stopped at any point before the war, it would change everything... Would she mind? That stopped her again. She had the power to rip time now. No, that wasn't right. She had already ripped time in the past, she was just going to do it now, again. She continued pacing.

Cyclical time made her head spin. If she ripped time by choosing to go back in time, the rip happened in the present, not the past. Right? Dealing with hypothetical situations such as these, with little or no data involved made her wish that she had indeed transfigured Xenophilius when he'd been in the room. Who was to say that a decision she'd made hadn't already ripped time? Once again she stopped. He _had_ said that the Time Turner was used,__but really who was to say that it hadn't already occurred and she was worrying about this for nothing? Well, his enigmatic manner for one, (she began pacing again) though many would argue that he was _always_ enigmatic. So it was something that she would go back in time to do or change. That much was apparently? certain.

Not Riddle then. Something else. The only other convergence of different paths in time that she could think of would be the war, just like Xenophilius had said. Oh, bloody hell, there could have even been a time path where he _didn't _witness the time rip, then where would that leave her? Her head began throbbing again.

But then there were thousands of different options- what could she have done differently or extra? What would going back solve? Would she kill one of the Death Eaters who had escaped? Would she save someone? Killing a Death Eater could be a marked difference, but if she had already done that did that mean that she just had to look for a disappearance? Maybe a body that no one had found because she had dispatched of it in the past? Or if she saved someone, would their body never have been found until the day she returned from the past? Would that mean she had to hide them to keep present events the same?

Hermione firmly stopped pacing, one hand was still nervously spinning her ring while the other continued tapping her quill. Finally a part of her snapped. Throwing the quill to the ground her other hand grabbing her left to jerk the ring from her hand. Shocked, she stopped. Slowly, she lowered her hands to her sides. She hated these stupid habits that she had been picking up. If it hadn't been for that awful potion concoction of Molly Weasley's she might have picked up biting her nails too. Turning slowly, she breathed a sigh of relief that Luna had left.

Walking over to one of the outrageous cushions, she sat down. Ron. What was she doing with Ron? She knew that her own problems were causing these nervous habits, so what did he have to do with it? She had said yes. She was going to marry Ron, that's what she was going to do with him. Forcing her hands flat on the table, she barely stopped herself from spinning her ring again. This was going to drive her mad.

"Think Hermione. Just think!" she stood abruptly and began pacing, again. "What you need to do is research... Find disappearances and discrepancies. Goodness knows it'll be difficult, but that's where you're going to start. There's no way that you'll be able to find the rip you supposedly cause by sitting around like a lump."

Already she was calmer; she had a course of action. Start with the war. If Xenophilius Lovegood had found it certainly she, the most brilliant witch of her age, could as well. Catching her reflection in one of the few plain mirrors of the room, she saw her smile widened. She was happy. With the stress of the previous days, she knew she deserved it. Looking around, she snatched up her pad and after scribbling a quick note of thanks, which she tore off and left on the table, Hermione prepared to Apparate. One last look made her grab the damn Time Turner to take with her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.**

**A/N: Sorry for the delay all! Chapters will come much faster now, promise!**

I'll Give You All My Futures

**Chapter 4: The Man to Save**

"_You sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve." - Ginny Weasley_

**February, 2003**

Hermione sat poring over records in the small room that she had designated her study. Ron was coming to visit later in the day. She hated that she was still fretting over what he would think of her surrounded by books again. Twisting her ring around her finger, she stood, leaving the mound of papers on her desk and went to the shelves on the wall.

She had thought the idea quite brilliant, if she did say so herself. Each shelf was spelled to link to a separate wizarding library, though they had been quite bare lately. London had the greatest accounts of the War and she had been pouring through them. The shelf was nearly full. Tapping her lip with her wand thoughtfully, she tapped two of them, sending them back to their shelves in WWL of London.

Taking another sheet of paper with her tightly written list of events, she spelled it so it stuck to the wall. Already, she had quite a timeline. The War she had detailed as much as she could, from the notes that she found to her own memories. Finding something that could be significant enough to rip time in a mess that was that war was almost impossible. Mainly because it could have been _anything_. The ceremonial burial of an empty casket. Staring blankly at the wall, she remembered the face in the mirror. But it couldn't be...

Trying to think of all the things she would have _liked _to change, people she might have saved? They were accounted for in the past, which meant that they weren't in the present, and couldn't be in the present. She could even reference her experiences in third year for that. "Nothing can be changed because anything a traveler does merely produces the circumstances they had noted before traveling," after all. Looking back to her stacks of notes, she couldn't help but notice discrepancies in recent events. They seemed unnoticeable, but they were there. And as she had noted, these were what she would have to look for.

She would have to start the next phase of her research though, consulting runes. She was sure there was an Arithmantical equation she could use to narrow it down further to a specific instance and time...

A popping sound from the living room made her jump. Her stomach twisted abruptly as she looked about her and she contemplated hiding the evidence of her research. Resolved though, she refused. If they were going to have a bloody row about her reading, there were going to be problems.

"Hermione?" a voice called.

"In here," she said as she stood, walking towards the living room, a half-smile on her face.

Walking over to him, she ran her hands through Ron's hair, smoothing the half that was sticking up smooth. He caught her hand as she was pulling it away and kissed it. Since becoming an Auror with Harry, Ron had matured quite a bit. There was a strength there that had been missing for so long. Once he had come back to them, that fateful year, it had shown through and stayed.

"Smells like books," he said, wrinkling his nose, "I thought the Ministry let you have the day off to attend Lovegood's little fling."

"They did," Hermione said, rather thinking that her superior, instead of doing her a favor, had meant to punish her for some unknown fault. "Remind me to thank Harry and Ginny for suggesting the idea to him with Neville's new breed of Snapping Dragons."

She snatched her hand back.

"Hermione, I didn't mean anything by it," Ron said.

"I know Ron, I know," she said, absentmindedly playing with a lock of her hair that had come free from the tight confines.

Suddenly he mischievously grinned, "You know, I never liked you getting mad at me, but after the make-up sha-"

"Ron!" she cried indignantly, her face flushing as she turned away.

The last time that he had rolled his eyes at her reading in bed she had snapped. It had never been anything big, but the little things had added up and she had just snapped. Kicking him out of her bed, she had made him Apparate back to the Burrow taking nothing but what he was wearing: boxers and one sock. He had finally apologized profusely, and with what she had guessed was a script written by Molly Weasley, and she had let him come back the next night.

"Seriously though Hermione," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Have you thought about it?"

Hermione stifled a sigh. They had been having the official "moving in" talk for over a week now. Even though Ron spent nights over and technically had his own space and his own drawers, she couldn't bring herself to let that extra step and let him live with her. For the most part, she loved having him over and loved him when he was over, but she was still resisting. At least for now.

"Not tonight Ron," she said, letting him hug her tightly as he heard in her voice just how tired the extra research had made her as she relaxed back against his chest.

"Mione, I know it's soon, especially after… you know. But we are engaged, I think they would understand."

Hermione swallowed hard and immediately tensed. She hadn't even been thinking about them, and now that doubled and trebled her guilt. Especially when she coupled it with all that she had been doing today. Her mind had skipped them over. As if saving her parents' lives hadn't been important enough for her to cause a rip in time over. She looked up and swallowed hard again.

Her parents had been killed in an attack almost six months ago now. Their house had been found destroyed on the inside. They had never found the bodies. The thought of her parents as bodies made a silent sob jerk her body for an instant. How could she not have thought about them? Her mother's face swam in front of her eyes and suddenly she was crying.

Pulling away, Hermione walked calmly into the kitchen, her eyes still streaming tears. She felt Ron trailing behind her. Walking into the kitchenette, she put a kettle on, the Muggle way, her mother's way. It felt good doing it like that now. Like she still had a piece of her to hold on to, even though she wanted to fall apart. Taking a hand towel from the rack, she wiped at her face. She didn't want to break down in front of Ron like that. It wasn't his fault.

"It's okay to cry you know," Ron said from the door frame separate kitchen from living room.

Hermione nodded, the lump in her throat still too big to speak around. She coughed.

"I-I know Ron, it's just. I can't let it get to me. I can't explain it. Then they win twice," she finally said as the kettle began to whistle.

"I'll be in the front room if you need me," he said before turning and leaving.

Hermione set the kettle to the side after she poured the steaming water into the mug with her bag of black tea. Letting it steep, she made her way to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she took a deep breath as her back thumped softly against the wood. Sliding down the closed door until she was a small ball on the floor, Hermione cried, sobbing silently into her knees.

**March, 2003**

"It's really quite extraordinary," Poppy said with a smile. "They've been appearing since, oh I'd say since the students returned from Christmas. We were getting desperate, so it was like a miracle."

Hermione had been questioning professors around Hogwarts as well as others who worked at the Ministry. Since she had elected to have her Saturdays off when she had first started working for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she had decided to visit Madame Pomphrey. She would have had the best insight on things happening in the castle that were out of place or strange.

"But what kind of potions Madame Pomphrey?" Hermione asked.

"Oh call me Poppy dear, you're not a student anymore," she said with a smile as she bustled to the cabinet to show her. "I had originally thought that it was Horace you know, but goodness knows that man…" she shook her head. "Besides, the last year I asked him to help replenish my stores. Well, let's just say I had some very stern words for him in reply."

Poppy opened the cabinet, "But there they are, plain as day. It's almost as if…"

"As if what Madame, Poppy?" she asked when she saw the frown on her face.

"Oh nothing dear," she said, quickly dabbing at her eyes. "Just a passing fancy. What have they done now?"

Hermione watched as the nurse quickly hurried over to a student who was almost being carried by another into the ward. If she thought she was right, the leg the one student was dragging was either badly dislocated, or transfigured into something else. Looking away from the students, she looked back to the shelf. All common ailment potions that would be found in the Hospital Wing. Looking in the locked section of the cabinet, she squinted to see the fogged glass. A package of three ingredients together was in the front. Leaning closer, she barely made out the largest line of the label.

"Wolfsbane," she whispered.

It looked like whoever had packaged it had stopped the process all but finished.

"Hermione, look, I can't believe you haven't seen this before," Falcona said, handing her over the paper folded to the article in question.

Hermione spun her chair around to take the paper. Running a quick scan over it she frowned. Normally she tried to keep up to date with the latest developments in almost every magical field, but this one had completely escaped her. It detailed the use of a much more complicated warding system than she had ever come across.

"And before you get completely engrossed," Falcona added, making Hermione look up. "You do know that there's going to be an opening in my department soon, right? You should send in an application, you're more than qualified. And we could use you. You wouldn't believe the disgusting legal jargon and absolute knob heads I have to work with. The reforms need to be spear headed by someone and Merlin knows you're good at that."

Falcona gestured to the numerous S.P.E.W. paraphernalia that Hermione still had, as well as awards for service. Hermione nodded thoughtfully as her eyes returned to the article.

"I was thinking about it Falcona," she absentmindedly said. The use of phoenix properties, she'd never thought. "I filled out the application, I just haven't decided if I'm sending it in yet."

"Well think about it. There are some many laws that still favor purebloods, we could use your brain."

Hermione nodded again. Falcona laughed, seeing how she was already entrenched in her readings. Turning to go back to her level, Falcona was surprised when Hermione called her back.

"How long ago did these articles start appearing?" she asked.

"Hm? You mean the author?" Hermione nodded. "I think about four months ago, maybe five, I can't be certain right now. I have them all actually, if you're interested. Have you heard of him?"

"Ifanis Princeps?" Hermione asked, "No. I haven't heard of him. But it's intriguing."

"Some of his writings are a little… borderline I guess you could say. I'm interested to hear what you think. Originally they were handed off to the Auror's office by an anonymous tip," Falcona nodded at Hermione's raised eyebrows. "You could say that he sees the line as very thin between Black and White I suppose."

Hermione nodded and went back to reading as Falcona turned to go back to her office in Magical Law Enforcement. She was engrossed completely in the article from the beginning to end, her fingers itching to try it as her mind exploded with possibilities. If wards like these had existed… Hastily setting aside the paper, she tried to distract herself before she thought the words, _if wards like these had existed, my parents would still be alive_.

Back at her London flat, Hermione was once again at work with her research. Her line of floating notes was now quite extensive, covering a wall. Occasionally, she would star one event, scratch out another as being insignificant. All were pointing her to the same direction and she wasn't yet sure she liked it. She sure as hell couldn't understand it, but if it got any clearer her equations would take form and slap her in the face. Either way, she had wanted a bit more confirmation. She had visited Harry in the Auror's office on her way out that day.

"Harry!"

"Mione, what are you doing over here?" Harry said, a wry smile on his face. Two Aurors in front of him waved as they turned the corner.

"I've been looking through some things that have been going on this year. Have you noticed any tips that were odd, or raids that went well, almost too well?" she asked.

"No, not that I can think of," he said frowning slightly as he ran fingers through his hair.

That had made Hermione grin. Ginny had made him get it cut earlier in the year and now Harry continuously ran his hands through it as if he could make it grow back faster.

Even though Harry hadn't noticed anything, she didn't give up hope from that angle. She poured through every Auror report and article that she could get her hands on but she couldn't find anything. The praises from the papers would be expected of course, if the raids or arrests were published at all, but of the details that she had thought would hint at something extraordinary… Nothing. She sighed, pushing papers aside to lay her head down in her arms. How could Lovegood have found something she couldn't? She needed definites, none of this guesswork! Maybe she needed a different approach. She was interrupted from her musings by a voice coming from her living room.

"Hullo Harry," she said with a smile when she saw his face peering out from her fireplace.

The small flat hadn't originally had one, but she had it magically enhanced so that the smoke had somewhere to go. Harry's face looked up from the green flames with a smile as she sat in front of the fireplace.

"Hermione, I was thinking about what you said before. You know, about things going too smoothly? Back in… August I think it was. The raid on Rookwood's hideout in Scotland. We had gotten an anonymous tip telling us when to be there and what to expect. Now that I'm looking back, it did go smoother than I thought it should have at the time, but I didn't question it."

Hermione smiled wider, "Thanks Harry that helps."

"How are things lately, how're things with Ron?" he asked, a strange look on his face.

"They're as good as they ever were I suppose. Why?" Hermione replied, frowning.

"Well, it's just Ron's seemed, err, what I mean is, what's with the new project lately? He said it started after you got back from Lovegood's," Harry said.

Hermione laughed as she replied, "If you must know, I had originally thought to throttle you and Ginny for sending me there, but it was actually more interesting than you would think. I'm just explored a possibility."

Harry winced before asking, "Like what?"

"Just research this year and connecting it with events that happened in the war… Are you alright?" she asked.

"Fine, just fine. I just thought the two of you would have moved in already, you know," he continued as Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Harry…" she began.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Where are you Flooing from?" she asked, her eyes still narrowed.

"My house, why?" he asked.

Abruptly Hermione stood and Apparated. Seconds later she was knocking loudly on Harry's door. Ginny opened the door, startled. Billowing past her friend, Hermione had just enough time to see a tall individual disappear from next to the fireplace before rounding on Harry, who still had his head in the fire.

"Hermione what's-" Ginny started.

"Hullo Hermione," Harry said, a rueful grin on his face as he sat back.

"You! I can't believe it. You were _spying_on me?" she demanded.

"What?" Ginny exclaimed, rounding on Harry also. "What happened? Where did Ron go?"

"Ugh!" Hermione cried, throwing her hands up and turning to Ginny. "_Your_ husband was acting as an agent for _your_brother, trying to get information out of me. This is ridiculous. Ginny, I do hate to impose, but if I get home and find him there, you might have to deal with a house guest. God knows his mother won't take him back when I tell her."

Abruptly she Apparated again, leaving the Potters trading glances. Taking a deep breath, Ginny walked around the couch to sit next to Harry who was still on the floor. Leaning against him, she sighed.

"What's going on Harry?" she asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," he said, scooting back with her until they were leaning back against the side of the couch, his arms around his new wife. "They've had spats before, I'm sure they'll work it out."

Ginny shook her head with a slight chuckle as she said, "And how many times did I say to stay out of it?"

Harry sighed as Ginny laughed louder to ease the sting of the 'I told you so'.

"I do worry about them though. Ron's always been the slow mover," Harry said, pausing when Ginny's snort interrupted him, "but now it's her that's putting the brakes on. If one of them doesn't come to a conclusion, I just don't know what's going to happen."

It turned out that Ron hadn't returned to Hermione's flat and she didn't know if that made her happy or furious. The truth was, she wanted to yell at him. She didn't want it to deflate by the time she next saw him. Pacing furiously in her living room, she wanted desperately to smash something. Only intense restraint kept her violent feelings from becoming violent actions.

She couldn't believe that Ron had coerced Harry into asking her questions. She had said that she wasn't ready for him to move in, why was he pushing?

And Lovegood! She fumed. How could someone so obviously out of touch with reality have found something that she couldn't have seen? What could he possibly have researched that she hadn't touched upon? Even every bit of research she had so far was a guess! And who would she be saving? Who did all of the signs that she _had_ found point to? Not Fred Weasley, though since his ghost made regular appearances in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, causing just as much trouble as when he was alive, she couldn't feel too bad. It wouldn't be Remus Lupin, Tonks, or Sirius, or any other beloved hero or student who had died during the war, but a snarky bastard that everyone had a reason to praise now after his death, but couldn't help but hate during his life. Why? Reviewing the laws of time made her head spin. She was, after all, looking for the evidence of something that she had _done_ after all. That it _had_ been him she was almost certain. All of his bad manners, sarcasm, billowing robes, disagreeable, two-faced, greasy haired... _him_. Somehow that thought calmed her.

Hermione walked, calmer now, into her makeshift research room. The papers fluttered slightly as she closed the door. A red circle marked the day of the great battle where Riddle fell. She shivered, thinking how close they had all come to death that day. But she knew that she would do it now. She didn't have the exact time of an actual time rip, but all of her calculations, the arithmancy required painted the far wall, included two people. The central figure was her. Strangely two tears leaked free from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered, looking at the glowing lines that lit up the chalk markings. She would rip time by saving Severus Snape.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.**

**A/N: Because I meant to have Chapter 4 up a week ago, I bring you two chapters in a day!**

I'll Give You All My Futures

**Chapter 5: Preparations**

"_Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike."_

– _Albus Dumbledore_

**March, 2003**

Two days after Hermione had found Ron trying to spy through Harry, Hermione had set up a small Potions lab in her kitchen. The potions had been simmering for almost six hours now, carefully spaced approximately thirty minutes apart so she would be able to bottle one cauldron before the next finished.

Her sleeves she had been pushed back above her elbows and her hair had been firmly brushed into submission before firmly braided. Though it was still wild at times, the length that she had added to it since the war was slowly but surely weighing down the outrageous tendency towards bushiness. The braid could almost touch the bottom of her waist now.

Two minutes to go, she thought as she readied the bottles. A loud crash, followed by a chime, made Hermione smirk. A quick anti-Apparition ward. She knew that it would come in handy. Only one person would have the nerve to Apparate into her flat. Carefully, she poured out the first cauldron into the first two bottles as she heard the steps coming towards her door followed by the sound of knocking. Carefully stoppering the bottles, she set the cauldron down. Another knock at the door made her sigh. He wasn't giving up. Crossing her apartment, she opened the door.

"What do you want Ron?" she asked, leaning her body against the door jam.

"I-" he began, holding out a bouquet of flowers, before he wrinkled his nose. "Hermione it smells like a hospital in there."

"Wait! Wait, that's not what I meant to say," he said hastily as she began closing the door on him.

"Then what Ron? I don't have time for this," she said, glad that she could hold onto some of the anger from the other day.

Ron looked flustered, shifting weight from one foot to the other as he began. "You know I'm not good at this. I- look, I'm sorry Hermione. It's just, you've got me going crazy. I just don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going. No, that's not what I meant. I-"

Hermione sighed and opened the door, saying, "Come in Ron."

Once the door had fully closed, she pulled her wand free from her pocket, saying, "_Accio_vase."

Hermione took the flowers from him and with a murmured _Aguamenti_, filled the vase with water. She took her time arranging them as he spoke.

"Hermione, I want us to be together. Really together. And I know that we _are _now, but somehow I feel like you're always holding out on me like somehow you're with me, just not," Ron said. She could feel his eyes on her, but she was determined not to look up as she arranged the flowers. "And I know. Really. If I lost Mum."

"No," Hermione said, her head snapping up as her stomach clenched painfully. "I am not. Not. Talking about them Ron."

A tiny whistle from the kitchen made her shake her head and go to pour out the second batch. Ron followed her.

"Maybe we have to talk about them Hermione. Dammit, I'm not good at this," he said, sounding frustrated.

"Then stop trying to be, Ron," she hissed tightly, containing her anger as she carefully poured the cauldron's potion into bottles. "Let it go."

"But then I'll let you go!" he cried. "I feel like if I don't do something, you're going to go. I don't know how, and I have to stop you before you're gone."

Guilt twisted Hermione's stomach as she stoppered the last bottle. She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table as the anger leeched out of her. Finally, she made herself look at him.

Ron was standing in the doorway with such a look of anguish on his face that her gut twisted again. How could she leave him like this? If Lovegood was right, there might be countless Rons who would never see her again, she would disappear, and only one Ron that would. And even that one Ron would have to know that she had gone back to save Snape, and she knew to him, venerated hero or not, too much of Ron still thought he had been a git. But what could she say?

"What do you want me to say Ron?" she said, hating that she sounded so defeated. How had it get gotten this way between them?

"I want you to say that you'll stay," he said, advancing. "I want you to tell me to move in with you. I want _you_."

"I can't say that right now Ron, I'm sorry," she all but whispered.

"Which part?"

His tone made her look up. The hurt was almost completely gone. Anger had completely replaced it. His face and neck were flushed red, but his lips were tight and white.

"Forget it, forget I said it," he hissed before he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione flinched and tears started flowing down her face. The chime for the third cauldron being finished jolted her out of it. Wiping the tears on her sleeve, she sniffed. Then she poured.

"Twenty-five _thousand _galleons? Are you out of your mind?" Hermione gaped at the tall man behind the counter. She honestly had to wonder if it was a tendency of those who were frequently around potions ingredients to also have rather pale skin. He had done well for himself here over the years though, considering how the quality of his robes had improved over the years she'd shopped here.

The clerk, Mr. Ernet, at Slug & Jiggers was now looking at her like she was out of _her_ mind. It was the only shop that she had found in the country to even make her an offer though, so she had to have at least tried for the easy way of doing this. It had taken her forever, and she had finally gotten a hit on her searches. They had sent an owl to her yesterday that they had a vial in stock, recently in, if _the miss would like to please see for herself_.

"Phoenix tears are not normal potion ingredients, Miss Granger," he began slowly, sounding as if he was about to go into a lecture.

"Yes, yes, I know," Hermione said, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand. The price had caught her off guard though.

Phoenix tears didn't have a long shelf life, first thing. Any attempt to configure a preservative to mix with the tears had the same result as allowing them to lose their healing properties over time. They also weren't easy to procure. Unlike many potions ingredients that came from magical creatures, they could not be harvested from a dead phoenix. They also had to be given willingly, because the birds could not be coerced to either heal a nearby victim or cry on command. There also seemed to be a limit on how many tears a phoenix could produce at any one point in time. But still! She wouldn't make that much in a year. Hell, two years! She sighed in disgust as she heard a chuckle from behind the counter.

"You don't sound as they normally do though Miss Granger," he said with a smile.

"How do they usually sound then?" Hermione asked as she handed over her other list of ingredients.

His face lost the humor that he had held as he said, "They normally sound desperate. You- You don't sound desperate. You simply sound determined to find another way."

Hermione chuckled as she gestured to her list.

"It is the second time that I've seen you in as many days though," the clerk said, busying about the shop as he prepared her the items from her list, setting a brown stoppered bottle onto the counter with another vial with a blue powdered substance. "I'd guess you were working for St. Mungo's or another hospital in the area. Or going to battle." He finished, turning to raise an eyebrow at her from where he stood on the ladder behind the front desk.

Hermione only gave him an answering smirk, but didn't reply. He chuckled before turning back and scooping three spoons of pulverised iron into a bag. He also grabbed a tall jar on his way down. Hermione handed over her own flask for him, for which he nodded to her in thanks, as he poured salamander blood into the funnel which he placed inside the flask.

"Of course," he said, stoppering the remaining containers and tallying up her purchase. "It isn't my business to know what you will be doing with these goods. However, I feel that we've come to a working relationship so far between us, yes?"

Hermione nodded once, "I would say so, yes, Mr. Ernet."

"Good, then please, call me Nigel," Nigel said with a smile. "That will be 6 Galleons and 10 Sickles."

"Nigel then," Hermione said as she fished the money from her purse. "Please call me Hermione."

"Very well," Nigel said, handing over her purchases and his face became serious. "I'm sure you won't need it but, good luck Hermione."

The next stop was fairly simple. It was also something that she had been putting off for quite some time. Swallowing hard, Hermione pushed the door open to Flourish and Blotts. The store normally filled her with such ease and comfort. It was the place that she would always stop and visit, even when she knew that she wasn't going to purchase anything. Sad though it might have been, she did love the smell of books. Moving towards the wizardographies section, she didn't have to look far to see the books she wanted. Seeing his face scowling out from the cover of _Snape: Scoundrel or Saint? _made her grimace. She knew why she had been avoided that particular book. Frankly, it infuriated her to no end. Maybe even more so than the biography the infuriating woman had written about Harry later, of which three quarters had been absolute rubbish.

Feeling dirty, Hermione picked up the book, and flipped it over. There, in all her disgusting glory, was the author. Rita Skeeter, the woman that Hermione detested with a passion. Unfortunately, shortly after the war, Hermione had lost her power over her.

After the rumors of a biography on Harry began to circulate she had practically broken the woman's door down. Hermione had almost been hauled off to court after the things that she had shouted but, eventually, she had ended up going through with her original threat and reported the detestable, sneaky, horrid, amoral woman to the Ministry as an unregistered Animagus.

Ms. Skeeter was now registered. She had had to pay several hefty fines (calculated on the years that she had been unregistered), but was now free to write all of the rubbish she wanted, including Harry Potter's biography, along with Snape's.

A thinner volume, _Hidden Hero_, sat next to the others. It had been published some years later by Eldred Worple, with a foreword written by Harry Potter. Though Hermione had helped Harry write and edit the foreword she had stopped short of actually reading the contents of either book. The idea for the book had actually been Harry's, and the idea to include Worple had been Hermione's. Subtle manipulations, as well as Harry dangling the possibility of an authorized biography, of course had Worple on their side.

_Hidden Hero _had actually sold remarkably well within the intellectual community. Harry had confessed that he hadn't actually included many of the details that he could have, which would have made it sell more. He had made sure that he had the final word on most of his personal history. For all that Harry had wanted to clear Snape's name, as well as turn the public's opinion, most of the book was concerned with most of the book was concerned with setting the record and timeline straight as far as the Order of the Phoenix and the Second Wizarding War were concerned. Harry's fame had helped sell it, Hermione knew. It also helped put a dent in Skeeter's profits which she liked of course. But she could never bring herself to read either.

Swallowing, she turned this little book over as well. Both Harry and Worple were pictured on the back- Harry decked in his Auror's robes and looking quite grim, Worple looked all-together pleased with himself though, thankfully, not grinning as obscenely as Lockhart used to.

Stacking both books in her arms, Hermione hated that her stomach was turning slightly with butterflies as she chatted with the girl she bought them from. Everyone here had known her on a first name basis since her third year. Shrinking the books so she could tuck them into her pocket, she sighed. If Ron and Harry could see her now! Scared to read a book. She laughed at herself. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. Picking up her bag of potions ingredients, unfortunately not all of them could be shrunken without the possibility of damaging their properties. It just wasn't right to mix magic with certain ingredients.

When she reached her flat though, she still couldn't bring herself to read the books. She decided to just dump them into the bag with her other things. She had a plan now, that was certain. It all hinged on Pye's lecture next month, and if she could manage to get into Harry's good graces enough to get access to some of the Auror office's property. She'd only really need to borrow one for a day, technically, if all went well. Thinking back, through all the times of trouble during her school years though... she knew things did not always go as planned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.**

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><p><span>I'll Give You All My Futures<span>

**Chapter 6: One Last Thing**

"_It is a curious thing...but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it." - Albus Dumbledore_

**April, 2003**

Hermione's visit to St. Mungo's was strangely surreal. All day she had been anxious, almost as if she had drunk ten cups of coffee. Her energy level surged and lessened as she walked the halls, so much so that she almost wondered if she should let a Healer examine her while she was there. Once she got the lectionary, the surges stopped, but she was still worried. For the past few months now, she'd been having them, but never this bad.

_"Hermione are you alright?" Ginny asked._

_Hermione rubbed circles on her chest and nodded. Her heart had suddenly sped up and she felt like a large dose of adrenaline had hit her system._

_"I'm fine," she said, standing abruptly because if she moved it helped. "It's not the first time that it's happened."_

Ginny had almost made her go see a Healer then, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if her friend had been correct. As she stepped into the lectionary with the mass of mediwitch and mediwizard students, she quickly found a seat up front.

"Well if it isn't Hermione Granger," a male voice said from the row behind her.

Hermione turned around to see Anthony Goldstein flashing her a blue-eyed smile. She grinned.

"I didn't know you were going to be a Healer," he said teasingly. "Last I heard, you were working for the Ministry of Magic. Which, as I remember, you vowed never to do."

Hermione laughed slightly and shook her head, more at herself than at him.

"I'm just here for the lecture. I'm glad to see you though. I haven't seen you since DA and that was years ago," she replied.

He smiled as he said, "Sometimes I wish that we could all be together like that again," he paused to chuckle, "Then I come to my senses."

Hermione chuckled a bit as well before they both turned around to listen as the instructor entered. Augustus Pye had helped to revolutionize the Healing world by the use of spells to contain, eliminate, or aid the healing process, especially in the treatment of patients during and after the Second Wizarding War.

"The spell that I am lecturing about today is _Immstatis Mortis_. Long, I know," he said, causing several students to chuckle, "Though definitely worth it. This spell is especially essential for victims of poison, unknown or known, spells, charms and curses, especially those unknown, as well as particularly vicious attacks. Now, the question is why. Who can tell me what the first problem of any of those victims is?"

A few hands went up. He called on a witch in pale green robes three rows up.

"The need for immediate treatment?" she asked.

"Very close," Pye said, "Very close to what I'm looking for."

He called on two other students before receiving the correct answer.

"The need to know how to treat them immediately," the wizard said.

"Yes, correct," he said with a smile. "Often victims of such attacks can die while lying right in the middle of a circle of Healers, simply because they do not know how to treat them within the short time frame that they have. The poison will have run its course, the spell will have done permanent damage, the wounds will have bled out. _Immstatis Mortis _solves this. May I have a volunteer? Two volunteers?"

Two students eventually came to the front. The Healer gestured for the first student to lie on the examination table.

"Now don't worry," he said with a smile, "You'll be able to see it performed as well."

With a twist and flick of his wrist, he said, "Immstatis Mortis."

The student's body went completely slack, as still as if she had died. The other murmurings of the students clearly thought the same thing. When her chest didn't rise to breathe, the murmurings became cries of alarm. Pye raised his arms to quiet the students.

"Finite Incantem," he said, and immediately the student jolted awake, sitting up and blinking at the Healer, breathing normally. "You see?"

"How do you feel my dear?" he asked her.

"Fine," she replied, "Did the spell work?"

Relieved chuckles resounded in the room.

"Yes it did," he said with a laugh himself. "With no lasting harm done. You'll see me perform it again with this young man in just a moment.

"As you could see," he continued, addressing the room once again. "She looked to all of you still as death, yes? That is the point of the spell. It holds the body in the exact state it was in at the moment the spell was cast. It will not reverse spells that were cast or such things as that. However, in cases where life or death decisions must be made, it gives the Healer the precious time he or she needs in order to diagnose and choose treatment. Especially in cases where the body is turned against itself and every breath brings the victim closer to death. Now, you must be careful. Every spell has its limits of course. The victim cannot stay under the influence of this spell for more than two minutes. Blood circulation must continue after that point. The spell can be repeated multiple times however."

Pye carefully went through the technique as he waved his wand, then followed with the careful intonation of the words so that all could hear him.

"Unfortunately, this spell will also have limits on the symptoms that it can completely stop. So far, the only spell whose aftereffects could not be completely negated by the use of this spell is the Cruciatus or certain types of spells that induce or create brain seizures or severe flaring of nerves. The one that you cast this spell on is very vulnerable to other types of castings. As such, you should be able to do basic diagnostic spells, while they are under _Immstatis Mortis_'s effects, all those included in your text have been thoroughly tested with this spell. However, wait to cast active spells _after _Immstatis Mortis has been lifted," he said.

Pye demonstrated the technique again with the other students and then asked for further volunteers to practice the spell. Hermione was the first in line.

Later that night, Hermione went over the figures again. She had everything that she needed packed in her specially charmed robes (and hopefully many things she _wouldn't _need) and she planned to go back in two weeks, so that she would be back in time on May 1, 1998, close to the final battle. The date didn't seem to be correct though. The actual time of the rip eluded her. The necessary factor was saving Snape's life, both Snape's equation and the equation that described his death assured her of that. The second factor was her doing it by going back in time. The third factor was somehow Thorfinn Rowle, which gave her a narrowed view of the date. He had been found battered and tied in the property between Lovegood's house and the Burrow the July after the battle. July might make sense if she considered that final equation. Knowing she had to leave it, she moved to her kitchen to put on a new kettle.

Stumbling, Hermione quickly grabbed the back of her kitchen chair as she felt her heart surge again. Gasping, she was barely able to stand upright. All she could concentrate on was breathing as the attack worsened, driving her to her knees. Her vision doubled and just when she thought she might pass out, it stopped. A crash on her kitchen table made her stand, shakily. The teapot that had been a gift from Mrs. Weasley was shattered and the cold tea that had been inside now spelled out across her table:

_Go. Now._

Her eyes widened, but she didn't hesitate. Running for her robes, she slipped into them quickly, followed quickly by the chain of Lovegood's TimeTurner. Tossing the specialized cloak over it all, she scattered the sealed and spelled letters across her kitchen table and Apparated.

The Forbidden Forest had never looked as ominous as it did now, she thought as she walked. She began reaching into her robes, but stopped herself. She wasn't going to check for the fourth time that everything was in order. Slipping the invisibility cloak's hood over her head, she levitated into a tree at the edge of the forest. Inside her head, she repeated the steps that she needed to perform, as she seated herself carefully on one of the free branches, making sure that the tree hadn't seemed altered in the past five years. Tucking her robes close in and around her, she made sure that the invisibility cloak covered her completely. Shaking, Hermione clutched the Time Turner's chain painfully tight in her hands. Everything she knew brought her to this moment yet she couldn't bring herself to turn the hourglass.

Suddenly hit with a burst of energy, her hands turned began to spin it.

A/N: Onward to the past! I'm sorry that it took until the seventh chapter to bring the main event. The next chapter I promise will be longer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did. Also, chunks and bits of this chapter's dialogue was taken from the book and/or film, ****Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows**

A/N: I chose to use the film's version rather than the book's for Severus Snape's death scene. I thought the layout was much better (and made more sense, ask and I'll tell you why). Also the dialogue. With of course the amazing delivery by Alan Rickman.

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><p><span>I'll Give You All My Futures<span>

**Chapter 7: Behind Enemy Lines**

"_Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! __Have you any idea how much tyrants fear the people they oppress? All of them realize that, one day, amongst many victims, there is sure to be one who rises against them and strikes back!" – Albus Dumbledore_

**April-May, 1998**

Clinging tightly now to the tree, Hermione let herself take in her surroundings. In her mind, she began cataloging all of the things that would have to happen in the last two weeks of April before the final battle. She wasn't ready for this. Her breathing was accelerated and her heart was pounding. Merlin, did she not want to be here. But this was the only place that she knew would keep her safe from crossing paths with anyone and have unintended consequences. She knew that she was high enough not to be easily seen from the woods, and she had taken extra precautions when she had borrowed one of the few invisibility cloaks held by the Auror office.

She had dissected it completely at her flat, but the magic would have taken her too long to replicate on her own so she had just nicked one. In a sense anyway. Chances were, it would be back before it was missed. She had just replaced it with a cloak that was the same with traces of invisibility, so that it would simply appear as though the cloak had simply faded. The magic of the one she had would start fading by the end of June anyway, but she hoped to not need it by then.

As she tried to not move for as long as possible, letting her gaze skim over the grounds, she let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. No one. Not yet anyway. Her other self would still be in Shell Cottage. Their trio would still be recovering from Dobby's death and from her…Biting her lip, she cradled her arm with scars well healed. The pain had healed, but she wore long sleeves now. That bitch had known it would scar. As with many dark wounds, no magic could remove it.

Two weeks. More specifically, twelve days. Where could she hide for that long? She knew that she had to be by the boathouse in time. She would hopefully spend her last day there, spelling and warding her little corner so that the most evil wizard of her time and his would be able to walk right past her and not notice a thing.

Huddling in her cloak, Hermione tried to focus. She had come back too early, she hadn't looked for a safe place now during this time. She had hoped to go right to the boathouse. Looking towards the castle, she tried to figure a way into the grounds. The Room of Requirement could hide her as a student until it was time. Most of the DA would be living there by now as it was. The Village was crawling with patrols. She didn't want to risk traveling too far away. So, it was either hide in the trees for a week or the castle. Hogwarts it was. But how? How to get in to Hogwarts that was now crawling with Death Eaters? And would she risk messing with time further? Maybe she could just stay in the forest? A rustling came from beneath her. Sucking in her breath, Hermione flicked her wand over herself quickly, barely doing it in time.

Fenrir Greyback stalked out of the forest beneath her, sniffing the air. Seeing him look up, watching him scan the trees with narrowed eyes, Hermione knew that he had caught her scent before. The spell to conceal her scent had saved her. For now. It would wear off soon. She tried not to breathe as he stalked closer to the castle. Harry had the map. Damn the Marauders for their amazing magic. She didn't have to worry about that yet though. That was later. And if she got into the Room of Requirement, she wouldn't have to worry about it seeing her there.

Shivering, she knew she couldn't stay here. The Shrieking Shack would get her in through the Whomping Willow. The cloak would get her around inside. She could do it. It really was the only place that she knew she could be safe. Hermione let out an almost inaudible snort. Safe. With Death Eaters crawling all over the place, Dementors flying around at Voldemort's beck and call, and soon Voldemort himself would make his big entrance. How could she possibly be thinking of doing this? And for Snape? Her brains were addled. Completely addled.

Making her way to the Shrieking Shack was easier than she had thought. There was an almost deafening silence in the forest. It was as if it knew what stalked under its trees, of the war that had begun, and of the Battle that was coming. It was almost scary how easy it was. The Shack still stood on its own, looking like it would fall over at any moment from the outside. Not wanting to waste time, she Appareted in.

Downing the Polyjuice made her gag. Her clothes instantly became too big. She had to cinch her jeans tighter at her waist and push her sleeves up on her arms. Over and over again as she dragged herself down the corridor to the Whomping Willow, she chanted her cover story, over and over. She knew the Neville who was in charge now. The same Neville who would become an Auror with Harry and Ron. Exact. Her cover story had to be good.

By the time she worked her way out from under the Whomping Willow, thanking her lucky stars she remembered where the knot was to freeze it, Hermione pulled herself from the end of the tunnel, quickly checking to see that she was covered. The sun had just set when she had come back in time, so it was almost full dark when she reached the outer walls of Hogwarts castle. No one was on patrol outside the main doors, but she didn't want to risk tripping wards or even opening a door for an invisible person. Hugging the wall, she found herself almost asking the castle.

_Please, please, please, I need the Room of Requirement,_she thought frantically, hoping that the urgency would somehow help.

Feeling the stones behind her change, a grin lit up Hermione's face. Feeling behind her, she felt a small wooden door. Crouching down, she opened it, making sure to shut it behind her before moving forward. For a second, in the darkness, she panicked. It wasn't a trap. It couldn't be a trap. Hogwarts wouldn't let it be a trap. She couldn't understand how she knew, but it didn't change her body's reaction. Her heart pounded in her ears as she stooped low in the corridor. Finding light at the end of the tunnel, she took a deep breath and embraced her taken identity, praying that her hunch was correct, that she was somewhere in the tunnel leading from Hog's Head.

She took the last of the corridor at a dead run, hitting the door hard as she opened it, falling into the Room of Requirement in a tangled heap of robes, arms and legs. Also, smack into the back of one Neville Longbottom.

The commotion that she caused was loud enough and violent enough that she didn't have to fake being disoriented when the invisibility cloak was thrown off of her. She knew what they saw. A scared twelve year old girl, long black hair in two long braids mussed, scratched, covered in residue from the forest and dirt from the tunnel. She was shorter than Hermione Granger, by at least four inches. She was thinner too, like she hadn't eaten in days. The fact that Hermione's jeans and jumper were at least two sizes too big on her now helped, as well as the fact that she was wearing a black robe that billowed around her feet and fell over and past her hands. The yelling of alarm and questions was stopped as Neville completely righted himself and got to his feet, waving for silence from the panicking students around him.

"Quiet! Quiet down, all of you," he said, turning to face her.

Hermione started shaking, wrapping her arms around herself as she made her chin start to tremble as well, as if she was on the verge of tears. Neville looked at her, really looked.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" he asked finally when silence fell.

"Pe-penelope Gr-grant," Hermione stuttered. "I… My family. I'm Muggle-born, you see. I… they, B-B-Bella. Bellatrix Lestrange and…"

Shaking in earnest now as Hermione channeled the day Bellatrix had flattened her to the floor, knowing that bringing up Bellatrix was a direct play on Neville's emotions, she continued, "My parents… the, um, the O-order didn't get to save them," Hermione saw the Dark Mark over her house, the damage as she'd surveyed the inside and the tears started, "I…"

Shaking, Hermione held up her left arm for Neville to see. Some of the students who had been crowding behind them gasped. _Mudblood _was still scarred into her arm. Polyjuice, spells, nothing would ever carve it out from her skin after Bellatrix had used magic to seal it there.

Her performance was good enough, because soon she was wrapped in a blanket and sat on one of the couches the Room had given them. Her entire story had convinced them. She told them how she had been taken to the Shack by Remus and given the cloak by the Order to get her safely inside. There was nowhere safe on the outside anymore, and their safehouses were full. She had started crying when she told them about Remus. Even if they wondered where Penelope Grant disappeared to after the battle was won, Remus wouldn't be able to tell them if she had been lying or not. By the time any of them saw Remus he would be…. Hermione shivered again.

"…come on ask her!" an adamant voice demanded.

"No! You remember what happened the last time. We can't afford to take any more chances like that. We're going to have to wait, got it?" Neville snapped back.

"He got caught!" the boy shouted. Hermione recognized the other boy now, Ernie Macmillian. "Michael got tortured because he got caught. A cloak like hers could help, just ask her. You know they've got more of the students strung up somewhere, you know it."

Neville looked thoughtful before he replied, "We'll try then. The more that we rally here the better. I'll ask."

Shivering still in her blanket, though by now Hermione had calmed down enough so that she had to pretend to shake, she watched him approach.

"Hey, Penelope, right?" Neville asked as he knelt in front of her.

Hermione nodded.

"Look, I know things have been bad here, I imagine that your parents didn't want you coming here, did they?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Hermione shook her head violently, "Mum's neighbor was a witch. When she heard about my magic s-s-she told her a-about everything. Our house was a M-muggle target, she said. When they saw I was a w-witch, that's w-when…"

"You're safe now, ok Penny? Can I call you that?" Neville asked.

Hermione nodded again.

"We're going to need to borrow that invisibility cloak you had. Can we do that?" Neville asked, his voice calm and soothing, like how Hermione used to catch him talking to his plants.

Hermione nodded, and just like that, she found herself in the care of Lavender Brown for the remainder of the time, knowing all the while that she would have to leave them, all of them, soon. The DA had marked up a calendar on the far wall. It was surreal, listening to Potterwatch, watching former classmates sometimes stumble back into the room, nursing bruises, broken bones, cuts, and the aftereffects of the Crutacius. Through it all, Hermione had to remain deaf and dumb, wanting so much to help, but not being able to give herself away. She found herself "accidentally" leaving books open to the right page on healing spells and how to better refine her own spell on the coins. It was all she could do and it didn't feel like near enough.

The days dragged on as she tried to help while appearing to be clueless, all the while sneaking sips of Polyjuice to maintain her cover. It wouldn't last much longer, Hermione thought mournfully as she swished the bottle in front of her. But then, it didn't have to anymore. Looking at the calendar, she almost jumped. Shocked, she turned to look at Neville who was limping still from the latest batch of injuries that no one had wasted precious energy to heal yet. How she itched to do it herself. She watched him as he checked the coin in his pocket and the beaming smile split his face. That was her cue, she realized. Not bothering with the last sip of Polyjuice, she skirted round the room trying to locate her cloak as quickly as she could as Neville disappeared down the tunnel towards Aberforth. She finally located it, carefully folded under one of the Gryffindor hammocks. Waiting for the inevitable, she watched as the door swung open again.

"Look who it is! Didn't I tell you?" Neville's voice rang out and seconds later Harry, Ron, and a younger version of herself spilled into the room to shouts and cries all over. Hermione used the noise as a cover as she slipped the cloak over her.

The commotion lasted as she heard Harry's bewildered question of "Where are we?" before she slipped closer to the small cupboard that opened onto a steep staircase. She quickly hurried up it, letting it take her around twists and turns, praying that her knowledge of the castle hadn't degraded over the years. The battle was coming. Adrenaline was already making her legs tremble slightly whenever she paused. She needed the time. Truthfully, she should have been at the boathouse preparing already. Pausing again as she encountered the wall at the end, she paused to draw a wand out of her bag. She needed to be away from where Harry would be when he started looking at the Map. As the wall dissolved at her touch, she stumbled out by the back stairs to the castle. She almost yelled. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she flattened herself against the wall. The Room really had outdone itself that year.

Almost frozen, Hermione found herself actually outside the castle, mist rising up from the lake. Dementors were still swarming over the castle grounds, haunting the world that they had all loved so much. She hated them. As much now as she had then. She watched them swirling. They were meant to keep students, and probably teachers, from leaving as much as keep help from coming. One was floating directly over the boathouse. She cursed. Cursed, cursed, and cursed some more. She would have to wait for the siege to start. Damn Riddle. Damn Snape.

She had already lived through this once. She would have to hear the screams again. The screams that _still _haunted her dreams. Everyone she couldn't save. Everything that… No. This time, she would save someone. Fisting her hands in the robe she wore, someone had lent her a Ravenclaw's two days ago to throw over her own bigger, charmed one. It helped with filling it out, the body she wore was so skinny. Hermione summoned all her fury. She would need it. It seemed like hours when the voice rang out, echoing everywhere.

"I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood," the hissing voice rang out even in the darkening night, high, cold, and clear.

"Give me Harry Potter," said Voldemort's voice, "and they shall not be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

The voice still haunted her nightmares. Shuddering, she felt her body growing, knowing with certainty that she was now her old self again, the school robe now at her knees, the robe underneath only brushing her ankles. It was almost too late. She couldn't wait. She had to move, and move now. The dementors were pulling back, back to the line where she knew Voldemort would be. She ran. He would be there any time now. _Run, Hermione, run! _she thought frantically, taking the steps two at a time.

The boathouse loomed before her. She saw the boat approaching from the distant shore, knowing by its slow and easy progress who it was. She ran faster.

Once inside, Hermione shuddered. It smelled the same. Strange how scents stayed with you the longest and tied you to memories you would rather forget. Looking at the glass window, her mind replayed the hideous sounds of a body hitting the glass with each strike. Levitating herself into the rafters, she started her spells.

She felt the spells hitting the boathouse as soon as he entered. The battle was starting. The wards would fall. She had to work hard to keep still, keep her breathing steady, when Voldemort entered. His robes hissed on the planks, almost similar to Nagini as she slithered along the boards. In her head, she repeated the steps she would need to take. The window of opportunity was so small. So very, very small. He paced to the window, hissing at Nagini in Parseltongue. The figure that stumbled behind him was almost unrecognizable. Shocked, she realized that the disgusting figure was actually Lucius Malfoy. He had made him row him there. The pride of Malfoy had been made to be little more than a gondolier.

The beaten and bloody, shaking and cowardly figure was nothing like the calm, collected, and contemptible man that she had known before the war and she had never seen him looking so worn. She watched as Voldemort paced to the end of the docks. He was a calm and silent figure looking over the lake. She felt it then, as her legs started to almost cramp in her tight position. The Anti-Apparition wards went down. She watched Lucius take a step forward, towards him and away from her.

"My lord, might it.. be les…uh, might it be more prudent to call off this attack? Simply seek the boy yourself?" Lucius stuttered.

"I do not need to seek the boy," Voldemort hissed, "Before the night is out _he _will come to me, do you understand!"

Hermione winced, but checked the movement as she held herself impossibly still, though her arms started to tremble. Voldemort stalked towards him, lashing out a quick strike across his face, making Lucius jump and flinch away from him.

"Look at me!" Voldemort hissed, his face a grimace as he looked at his pawn as if he were a speck of dirt under his shoe. "How can you live with yourself, Lucius?"

"I don't know," Lucius replied quickly, holding his breath against Voldemort's barely checked rage and disgust.

"Go and find Severus," Voldemort said, leaning towards him with a hiss, "Bring him to me."

Hermione watched as Lucius practically tripped, stumbling back and away from him. She could practically feel the disgust that Voldemort felt towards him. The rage at such a display of weakness. She hadn't known just how...unhinged Voldemort had become in his last hours. If Lucius's behavior was any indication however, it had gotten as bad, or worse then the accounts she had heard before. It was a miracle that Snape had lasted in those conditions to this point. Dumbledore's murder could have only lasted him to a point.

"You may… Apparate now if you wish…" Voldemort said with open contempt in his voice as he turned away from him.

A shudder ran down Lucius's frame as his hand went inside his robes to the plain wooden wand concealed in his belt before he Disapparated. Shaking, she watched Voldemort stalk back to the edge of the dock and wait. After what seemed like an eternity of Hermione watching Voldemort with Nagini coiled tightly beside him, Snape appeared. Even though she knew what would happen, knew the bloody end, her mind paused for a moment to admire how smoothly he was able to Apparate into the location just below her.

"My Lord," Severus said, keeping himself in a low bow to the other man's back. "You sent for me."

"Tell me Severus," Voldemort said, his voice careful, controlled, but he did not elaborate.

"The wards have fallen. Many of Potter's friends have already fallen my Lord, their resistance is crumbling;"

"-and it is doing so without your help," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice. "Skilled wizard that you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there….almost."

"Then let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord," Snape said.

"I…" Voldemort cut off his words. "I have a problem, Severus."

"My Lord?" Snape asked.

Voldemort rolled the wand in his hands as he turned to face the other man. He held the Elder Wand out, delicately, deliberately. "Why does it not work for me, Severus?"

"My-my Lord?" said Snape blankly. Hermione could see the signs now. The master Occlumens building layers in his mind to try to deliberately conceal what he now must have guessed. Voldemort slowly began walking towards him.

"I do not understand. You have performed extraordinary magic with this wand my Lord, in the last few hours alone," Snape affirmed, carefully standing as still as possible.

"No," Voldemort said, "No. I am extraordinary, but the wand… resists me."

"There is no wand more powerful," Snape said carefully. "Ollivander himself has said it."

Hermione's eyes flicked to the windows behind Snape. She knew, balanced precariously though she was, that Harry, Ron, and her younger self were now back behind the glass.

"Tonight, when the boy comes, it will not fail you, I'm sure of it," Snape said, deliberately, cautiously as Voldemort came ever closer to him. "It answers to you. And you only."

Hermione gripped her wand under her robes. The school robe that had been given to her was now slightly small on her, tighter over the thinner, charmed robe that she had come back with. She almost didn't dare to breathe as she watched Voldemort's face constrict, the eyes narrow, and the nose slits flare. How Snape could actually face that man, with those features, using words to reassure him, as a mother would a child, Hermione couldn't guess. And he had done it countless times. For years.

"Does it?" Voldemort replied.

"My Lord?" Snape said.

"The wand, does it truly answer to me?" Voldemort asked as he stalked around Snape, his eyes locked on the other man's face. "You're a clever man, Severus, surely you must know. Where does its true loyalty lie?"

"With you, of course, my Lord," Snape said.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner," Voldemort said, moving now back into range of Hermione's sight, wand extended, "You killed Dumbledore, Severus."

In her position, she watched Snape's face, the blank mask cracked for a second and if she had blinked she would have missed it. Voldemort continued moving forward, "While you live, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine. You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live. Forever."

"My Lord," Snape began, before Voldemort sliced at him, the first bloody cut appearing on his neck.

Hermione forced herself not to blink. Forced herself to watch, to watch with the detachment of a casual observer. Of a Healer, as she catalogued every injury as it was inflicted. She watched as Snape collapsed back against the window, flinching as the sound seemed to reverberate in the watery room. Shaking, she watched as the snake neared him. He was dead, she saw that he realized it in his eyes. There was no more mask. His heart still beat, but he was a dead man and he knew it.

"Nagini, kill," came the order.

She watched as the snake reared back and struck, first his neck, then shoulder, side, and arm, as the snake held on that last, thrashing as Snape did, hardly even bothering with trying to defend himself. Almost as if she was as vindictive as her master, Nagini reared back and struck him once more on his leg as well. Slithering back to her master, they Disapparated. Snape's breaths came wet, thickly, as he choked. Hermione bit down hard on her left hand to not cry out.

Then the door opened, as Harry, Ron, and her younger self walked in. Hermione watched as Harry dropped his wand, falling to his knees beside him. Knowing what she knew now, knowing how Harry had felt, how only moment ago all three had still thought him a traitor, she had never admired Harry more as he knelt, pressing his hand to the wounds on Snape's neck.

Hermione watched as Snape's eyes searched his face, searching, searching, even as she knew he was concentrating on the memories that now flowed from the tear down his cheek. He still seemed shocked that Harry was there, that anyone was there. Yet til the end, he was desperate to do his duty.

"Take them," he gasped out, gesturing weakly to his own face, "Take them. Please."

"Give me something, quickly, a flask, anything," Harry frantically said gesturing behind him.

Hermione watched as she conjured the flask from her bag to hand to him. Harry pressed his hands back to Snape's neck as he collected the memories. She could hardly see, barely hear.

"Take them to the Pensieve," Snape said weakly, almost as he tried to smile. "You have your mother's eyes."

He choked on the last words. _Careful Hermione,_she chanted in her head, waiting for Snape to turn away, she let her hand form the complicated sigil of the spell.

"Immstatis Mortis," she whispered.

The spell found its target as Snape collapsed backwards and moved no more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.**

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><p>I'll Give You All My Futures<p>

Chapter 8: The Forest Again

"_Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy." – Albus Dumbledore_

**May, 1998**

As soon as she cast the spell, Hermione began to count. Cursing at them in her mind, she wanted the Trio to just _move_, to get _out_, so she could get down to help. As soon as the door closed behind them, she moved. Not bothering with a spell in her haste, she practically fell from the rafters, her wand still tight in her fist, impatiently letting the cloak that had hidden her fall back where it had been snagged in the rafters and stay there. Its magic was almost done anyway, it didn't matter.

_22 seconds._

Hermione didn't even bother looking at all of the blasted buttons. A quick and carefully aimed slicing hex opened the high necked frock coat and once more for the white shirt beneath it.

Not even bothering with the seconds it took to search her pockets, she said, "Accio bag."

It flew to her outstretched bag as she quickly opened it to aim her wand inside, "Accio anti-venom."

This part was tricky. Nagini had been a fairly one of a kind snake. Her venom had been used to synthesize the anti-venom that had eventually led to the cure of Mr. Weasley. The problem had been getting it from St. Mungo's. Most had been used for experimentation with other compounds, so she had managed to get some under that pretense. The problem with that was that they had given her far too little for a quick healing job. She had stopped short of actually _stealing_ anything she needed, like one of the Auror's charmed invisibility cloaks. Harry offered to lend her his, no questions asked, but she didn't want to risk it on a venture like this and have it left in the past, maybe to never be seen again.

Gripping her wand handle in her teeth, she unscrewed the bottle and carefully used the dropper and sprinkled the anti-venom into the first strike into his neck, the golden drops vanishing into the deep gouges. Where most snakes used their venom to paralyze their victims so they could devour them, Nagini's seemed only serve the purpose of making her meals bloody. Hermione didn't understand it, but she wasn't trying to understand the bloody snake, she just wanted to fix her damage.

_40 seconds_.

The stopper clinked back into the bottle. Her teeth dropped her wand into her hand and sliced open his coat and shirt over his left shoulder. More anti-venom went into the bite there. Inside her head she was focused, concentrated. Venom would make him bleed out. First, counter the venom. Then, stop the bleeding. Then, replenish blood. Then work on anything else.

_55 seconds._

Hermione cut two more slices, this time on his side, the fangs had sunk into the gaps between his ribs. Then, jamming her wand back into her hair to free both her hands, the bottle balanced between her left fingers, she splayed open the fabric with her hand as she dropped anti-venom into the wounds, trying to ignore the other signs of healing wounds and yellowish-green bruises only just beyond the vicious stabs of Nagini's fangs.

Going in the order that the wounds occurred she realized might be a mistake, but it was too late now. Leg bite, leg bite next, the arm could wait. As she sliced open the leg of his trousers, she started violently cursing the blasted snake as she worked. There wasn't enough blood here which meant that he had bled out mostly from the other wounds. At least the femoral artery was still intact and not torn, for which she was grateful to whatever luck Snape had.

_70 seconds._

Another four drops went into the wound on his leg. She ignored the arm for now. It was not actually a wound that would be great enough to kill him in the first few minutes. Everything else might. Quickly capping the anti-venom, she dropped it back into the bag.

"Accio dittany," she said with another wave of her wand.

_83 seconds._

Hermione dropped a liberal amount onto the neck slice, before going over the other cuts that she'd already dosed with the anti-venom. She'd researched and cross-researched to make sure that they would each complement each other in this situation.

_100 seconds._

Taking a deep breath, Hermione whispered, "Finite Incantem."

Immediately she saw the results as the wounds all at once began to hiss as the dittany tried to close the wounds, fighting with the anti-venom against Nagini's work. Thankfully his heart hadn't been strong enough due to blood loss to pump the venom throughout. He wasn't breathing. He didn't have enough blood for that. That meant he needed blood for her to start his heart, and she had a potion that she was sure he'd choke on if she tried to get him to force swallow it now, if she could get him to swallow at all without it all being poured into his lungs.

"Accio syringe," she said, waving her wand at the bag. Inside her head, she was counting, but for a different reason this time. The brain needed oxygen before it died. It needed oxygen from blood. There were very few things that she could fault the wizarding world in, but it was missing a significant amount in certain medical sciences. Hands-on medicine was dismissed as almost completely Muggle and purebloods so actively shunned it that certain things like syringes and injected medicines were almost completely ignored, amoung other things like psychology, for example. She'd had to modify the potion to a less potent form and add blood components for the direct injection.

_15 seconds._

Syringe in hand, she sliced open his right sleeve from the shoulder down to bare his upper forearm. It needed contact with muscle, but had to avoid major nerves and arteries, very similar to the reason why the upper arm was chosen for other injections. Stabbing it into the meat of his arm, she used only half of the full syringe. The plume of color in the paler then death skin showed it working. But it would stay localized if she didn't start his bloody heart.

_27 seconds._

"Incursu minima," she whispered, her wand forming a bolt in the air above his chest and his body convulsed slightly. Checking his pulse at his neck, she found it there. Weak, but there. The movies were dramatic. Sometimes it only took one shock. Thankfully. She hated that spell. But it meant she didn't have to count anymore.

"Ebublio oxygenis," Hermione whispered again, a bubble forming over Snape's nose and mouth. The increased oxygen would help brain function. Checking his arm, she found the color spreading out and up toward his chest and down his arm. Arm!

"Shit," Hermione swore as she transferred her attention to his left arm which was now beginning to bleed again now that there was blood to do so. But as she was about to cut again into his clothes she realized she had another problem.

"Accio dittany," she said clearly, but not without a little bit of panic.

She sprinkled it liberally over the neck slice. The first dose hadn't fully healed the artery. She didn't have enough healing knowledge for a spell to knit the specific artery itself back together, she wasn't even sure there was one. Still panicking, she ran over the wounds again with her eyes, and then felt for his pulse. Still weak, it was barely there. She needed more time.

"Im-," Hermione caught herself. Not with the bubble charm in effect. Cursing in a rather obscene manner under her breath about demon-snakes, evil wizards, and stubborn gits, as well as stupid witches who did things like go back in time, she began working faster, summoning bottles, applying her last round of anti-venom to the wounds, as well as more dittany to their now healing surfaces. She hated that snake. Hated, hated, hated that thrice-blasted thing. Even as the skin tried to knit itself together in front of her eyes, she could practically see the venom trying to counteract it.

The neck gash was almost completely healed. An extra two _Vulnera Sanentur_ sealed it completely. _You should have thought of it before, stupid girl,_ Hermione thought to herself as she recited Healing passages in her head, _spell is good for surface wounds as well as deep gashes._ The others though…. A quick diagnostic told her the rest. He desperately needed more blood.

"Accio Blood Replenishing Potion, bottle one," she said as the bottle flew from her bag and into her hand.

The bottle was one of the many that she had been so tirelessly brewing in her flat. Uncorking it with her thumb, she dismissed the bubble charm. Moving herself up and close to his left side, she stuck her wand again firmly into her hair before cradling the back of his head as she gently tipped the potion into his mouth. The result was almost instant as he coughed and choked, but managed to swallow as she saw his throat muscles constrict. Laying off, she sat back again. At quick spell showed him miraculously stabilizing. She conjured the oxygen bubble again. He still didn't have enough blood to get enough oxygen to his brain. Only then did she take in everything.

Blood was everywhere. Looking at the half-empty syringe, she cleaned it with a quick _Tergeo._ If he could swallow, he would be fine, but she wasn't taking chances as she flicked her wand, sending it capped and back into her bag. It was only then that she really took in her appearance.

Hermione was in blood almost up to her elbows on both arms. The small school robe was ruined for sure. Blood stained the sleeves, but thankfully it had acted almost like an apron and had saved most of her clothes underneath. Snape was… Snape was still a bloody mess. He was breathing high and fast now, but even that seemed a good sign right now. His coat. God, his coat was a ruin. Cuts ran it to pieces everywhere. She was shocked that it hadn't vanished to dust yet. She had the sudden and unreasonable urge to start mending it, but she knew that was stupid. It was soaked in blood, the shirt under it, wherever it peered through, was red. It was shocking orange-red, not like the deep red that was used to paint blood. It smelled. It smelled like death and mold and blood, metallic and sweet.

Hermione stopped, knowing that she was almost going into shock herself. She needed to stay focused. She went over him again with another diagnostic spell. Bleeding, there was still bleeding. Neck wounds were closed and closing, still bloody, but oozing, not streaming. His leg was knitting together, as well as his shoulder. Baring the fabric at his side, she hissed out a breath. The wounds were trying to close, but there was now bruising underneath the skin. The anti-venom must not have reached into the wounds and he was still bleeding, but more internally now. She hadn't thought of it, but then he hadn't had the energy to cough up blood before now did he?

Her brain immediately began spinning through her healing texts that she had read and practiced. Something, something, something about the concentration and focus being the key. Something to get the bad blood out…

"Advoco sanguinem," she cast finally, her wand carefully trained on the wound which now began to run red with blood again. She felt her head begin to ache as she concentrated, calling out the bad blood from the wound, leaving his lungs clear. In her mind she pictured it, willing her wand to carry it out. A quick diagnostic spell one more pronounced his lungs clear of blood.

"Vulnera Sanentur," she said again, this time picturing the wounds knitting together, beneath the skin, the wounds healing. By the time she got him stabilized again, she almost collapsed. She was draining herself too quickly. _Vulnera Sanentur_ was advanced magic and she hadn't had much practice with it. It was one of those spells that the witch or wizard developed a tolerance for the more they cast it. She didn't have that and she'd cast it now four times.

Stay focused. She needed to leave here. In less than an hour, the battle would truly begin. Reaching out for her bag, she was hit with a wave of exhaustion that had her blinking spots out of her eyes. It was something more than just the magic she'd cast, but she tried to ignore it as her fingers closed around the bag as she drew it into her lap. From where she sat, she could at least help with his arm. Drawing his left arm into her lap, a _Diffindo _sliced the sleeve open once again. She tried to ignore the black mark on his skin as she cut the fabric from his wrist to over his elbow.

The wound was angry and red, the sides were torn and open from where the blasted thing had thrashed and hung onto him. Bruises stretched across his arm, standing out sharply against the pale skin. Blood was a brownish red in some places where it had started to dry.

Shakily, Hermione reached for the vial of anti-venom, applying a few drops to the wounds in his arm before capping it and dropping it into her bag. Dittany came next. She wished she could have managed another healing spell, but the adrenaline was leaving her as it was and she still needed energy to Apparate. The wounds still bled, but she could see it slowing. Checking his pulse again, she felt it there. It was still too weak, but it was there. Sighing, she dropped the Essence of Dittany back into her bag. She might need it later, and she only had the one vial.

Grasping the Blood Replenishing potion, she knew that she would have to have him drink almost a steady amount for some time, especially considering Mr. Weasley's treatment years ago. She just didn't know if she could get him to drink the rest yet. Half of what she had poured had been choked up and spilled down his chin. His breathing was better, she could tell. Frowning, she cast a brain diagnostic spell. Checking the points of light that appeared, she let out a sigh of relief. Everything was lighting up normally. Dismissing it, she felt the exhaustion hit again, letting the potion bottle fall into her lap as black spots danced in front of her eyes. Cursing, she realized she really shouldn't be trying to Apparate yet.

Hating herself, Hermione reached for the Mors Potestas potion in her bag. It was one of the things she didn't want to have to use, but had packed anyway, just in case. She wasn't even sure why she had included it, it wasn't exactly safe to use for extended periods of time. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

The potion was the magical equivalent of taking out one's own bone marrow, turning it into blood, and then using it to replace one's own blood. It took the magic from the witch or wizard's lifeforce to replace the "working magic" that a magical person could use. She didn't want to use it, but she just couldn't afford to stay here. And, Hermione looked over at Snape, she definitely couldn't afford to splinch someone still suffering from acute blood loss.

Biting her lip, she flicked back the top. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, she quickly took a swallow. The terrible smell completely contrasted with the sweet taste. Closing her eyes, she felt the heat hit her stomach almost as powerfully as alcohol. It felt like a burst of energy and she could suddenly _feel_ her magic again. It was a high. Everything seemed clearer. Hermione forced herself to focus, overcoming the magically induced rush.

Running the diagnostic spells again across his body, she could still see the weakness points flaring orange, but at least they weren't red. He was still missing too much blood. Dismissing the bubble charm again, Hermione summoned the Blood Replenishing potion back to her hand. Sliding up closer to his head, she wiped her hands as well as she could on her robes before trying to help cradle his head as she brought the bottle to his lips with her other hand. His eyes flickered behind his lids as he choked and swallowed another two mouthfuls. The rest of the potion spilled down the corners of his mouth. His face was still too pale. All of his skin was. Feeling his forehead, she found it was cold and clammy.

They needed to leave. They needed to be gone before the hour reprieve from the fighting was over. She wasn't even sure how much time had passed since the initial two minutes. Hermione vanished the first bottle of Blood Replenishing Potion. Checking one last time for his pulse at his neck, she grabbed the bag and stuck it in one of her pockets. Then, wrapping her arms as much around Snape as she could, she Apparated.

There was only one safe place that Hermione knew during the battle and shortly after. She had tried to find a safe house that would admit them, that would be empty during the Battle of Hogwarts and after, but nothing had been consistent. When the Order had gotten the call to fight, many stayed behind either because they were victims, injured, refugees, or simply Healers waiting for patients. After the battle, the safehouses had been used to catalogue the dead and heal the injured. Some had even been used for prisoners, what few they had been able to capture. So ironically perhaps, she had chosen the Forest of Dean, closer to the lake this time. At least it was warmer. When she arrived however, she didn't have much time to admire the weather.

"Shit! Shit-shit-shit," Hermione cursed as his blood began flowing in earnest.

Apparating must have somehow jarred the magically healing wounds. As she frantically separated herself from him to go for her wand, she kept at a litany of curses. She should have known. And now here they were in the open. She didn't know which danger to address first.

"Immstatis Mortis," she said quickly, causing Snape's body to collapse lifeless against the grass.

Frantically, she summoned the dittany once again out of her bag as her eyes frantically took in her surroundings. This was still war time, and dammit her reflexes weren't what they were and she didn't have the still honed reflexes of an Auror like Ron or Harry. She should have at least had some practice training, but she had been thinking of everything else. Adrenaline and the after effects of the Mors Potestas carried her through as she started counting again.

_10 seconds._

Throwing off both robes, her charmed one and the school robe sticky now with blood, she freed her arms for the more complicated wand work. The dittany joined them on the grass. Wards first, the healing. Wards at least she hadn't gone soft on. If anything, she had improved since her sixth year at throwing them up and keeping them strong. The first layer was simple protection from offensive spells.

_55 seconds._

Concentrating on counting and spellwork was growing difficult and she was growing increasingly thankful for whatever insight had made her pack that potion. The layer of disillusion charms came next. Basic for now, everything could be reinforced later.

_87 seconds._

Barely letting herself feel the exhaustion that was trying to overwhelm her, Hermione threw herself back down to the grass beside Snape. She needed to actually see everything now. A quick slash cut the string of buttons down the frock coat, peeling it open from where it was sticking to the shirt beneath and the skin beneath that. It was the side that was the true problem. Side and neck, she needed to get them under control, then leg, shoulder, and arm.

_102 seconds._

Slicing open the shirt beneath it, she paused for a moment to hiss in a breath before she forced herself to ignore to mottled bruising covering the skin, as well as the scarring, and instead focus on the current and deadly issues at hand.

Readying herself and her wand, she whispered, "Finite incantem."

Instantaneously, the wounds began to stream blood again. At least the first neck slice had stayed healed, but she wasn't actually surprised since that one hadn't been directly affected by the damn beast.

"Vulnera Sanentur," she whispered, working frantically on the bite on his neck which still seemed to be the worst.

A second one went to the one in his side, and a third to one in his leg. Thanking God for the potion's effects yet again, she summoned the dittany from where it was on the grass. Checking his breathing and pulse as she went, relieved that it was still there and she didn't have to start his heart again, she sprinkled a bit more of the dittany on the wounds.

"Accio Blood Replenishing, bottle two," she said, flicking her wand at her bag.

He needed to choke down a few more swallows before he was out of danger. Scooting up on the grass so that she could lever most of his upper body up and across her lap, she put the potion bottle to his lips. Gently pouring, she managed to get him to cough and choke down another few swallows before she capped it and set it aside. They were both filthy now by this time, but she wasn't going to waste time with cleansing spells, not when he might need another bout of healing sometime in the near future.

Content that he was at least out of danger for the moment, she conjured another bubble of oxygen around his nose and mouth. It would still serve him well to get the extra oxygen, at least until there was enough blood to circulate a normal amount. Slowly, she lowered him back to the grass. Taking up the school robe from where it was tangled on the grass, she threw it over his prone form. Stopping a moment to catch her breath, she set up a quick alarm spell to ring out if his condition changed. Then, she went back to her other robe.

Inside the robe she had charmed various pockets to hold specific objects. By the time she had finished, she felt very much like Mary Poppins packing up her bag, even more that she had in the summer after her sixth year. Feeling for the blue thread on the inside right, she tore open the pocket and with it the protection charm that she'd keyed to herself. Inside, she drew out the wizard tent.

It was frightfully basic as far as those tents went, but she wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible if she could. Thankfully, it was a one flick set up. Disappearing inside, she found everything as she'd left it. It wasn't even as spacious as the one she'd secured that fateful summer finding Horcruxes. Frankly, she'd been a bit disgusted with herself for that. There was a double bed that she'd left made up like a hospital bed in preparation for her guest, on a slight rise to the left that was separate from the main area of the tent. On a rise to the right was a "kitchen" area that Hermione had adjusted so that magic didn't have to be used during the actual food preparation.

There was a table, two chairs, and shelves on one side of the tent on the lower level. There were also two comfortable sofa chairs facing a fireplace. One of the best features however was the washroom which was in a curtained off section off of the "kitchen". It was something that she'd insisted on, sacrificing a two bedroom tent for it in fact. First there was not only the sunken tub, but there was also a shower. Two quick spells on the inside trailed the water facilities to connect to the lake rather than the camping spells' normal draw which would have alerted someone to the tent's location. Exiting the tent she cast a _Mobilicorpus_, to move Snape inside.

It was some time before Hermione could settle into anything that resembled calm. For all that she could tell, Snape was sleeping. She didn't know when she could anticipate him waking either. She'd unpacked her notes and books, save for two, into the shelves. There was a chest of drawers filled with clean clothes, including some finds that she didn't want to detail just _how_ she'd managed them. She'd also unpacked all of the potions bottles to the top shelf, making sure they were away from the fire, and quick to hand, just in case. The anti-venom was now perilously low, but she hoped that it had been enough.

Crossing the room and up the steps, she checked on him again. It was just such a shock, seeing him there. Alive. She had performed basic cleaning spells, cleaning his skin from the day's filth and other things. Even the more delicate ones she wouldn't dare use on the healing wounds though, she'd cleaned those with a light sponge, towel, and bowl of sanitized water. His shirt she'd thrown away, along with the frockcoat. Frankly, both had been damaged beyond repair. Certain spells might have been able to salvage them, but she didn't want to even try. Fabric mending had not exactly been her concentration and she would rather not admit the embarrassingly long amount of time that she would have to take with it.

It was surreal she decided. Studying him, he seemed unreal to her now, lying almost helpless on the bed. She had never really had a problem with dealing with Severus Snape, Potions Master, despite the hard times that he had given them in school. Now it seemed different. Maybe it was the years that she hadn't seen him. But he was the same as the day he d… the day he _almost_ died, she corrected herself. Because here he was, alive. His skin was still deathly pale, but somehow managed to retain an unhealthy, almost yellowing color. His nose was still large and hooked, that hadn't changed since their first year, and his hair still held an oily quality that apparently hadn't responded to the basic cleansing spell.

There were other things though, she thought, as she considered him. His eyes almost looked sunken, and what little color was in his skin seemed to be under his eyes that people normally received from either too little sleep or too little water. Hermione didn't want to think about the other parts of his anatomy that she could reflect on now. She'd treated the thigh wound, but only through the cut in his trousers. She wasn't that medically trained or even slighted inclined to be more forward in that direction. There was something that was worrying her though. Biting her lip absently, she approached the bed.

For modesty's sake, and the small chill that was now everywhere even in May at night, she'd drawn a sheet over most of Snape's body. To have tried to put him in any clothing would be pointless if there was another problem and the sheets would be easier to clean. Hermione had left his left arm free of it though. It was the wound that she most wanted to watch. Also, she hated to admit it, but it also was her indicator of what was happening in the final battle. She had been sure that it had been an hour already. Turning to the clock that she'd set on the side table by the bed, she realized it didn't help. She didn't actually know when Voldemort had fallen.

The Dark Mark still stood out, black against his skin. Watching, Hermione saw his arm suddenly twitch. Quickly drawing her wand, in case he actually was waking, she realized that it was only the sign that she had been searching for. His arm twitched twice again, until, as she watched, the mark began to fade. Unable to keep the grin from her face, she clapped a hand over her mouth, practically dancing with joy. She'd done it. Voldemort had fallen. She was alive. Snape was alive. Suddenly her knees went weak and she sat down hard on the stool she'd brought next to his bed as the full realization of what she'd done hit her. Just seeing him there, alive, breathing, and _there_ was enough.

Twisting her wand over him carefully in the complicated spell pattern, she tested out the magically induced sleep charm. It didn't seem to cause any harmful effects to his healing, so she left it there. It could only help him. Smiling ruefully, Hermione realized it was as much for her health as for his. She didn't want to wake up with a confused or angry former Death Eater, however injured, free around the tent. Especially not one as brilliant or talented as Snape.

Hermione had washed her arms before she'd charmed or cleaned anything in the tent, but she still had patches of blood sticking to her in places. Also, she was hungry. And now exhausted. The adrenaline was officially through. She barely managed to finish the spell that would alert her if his condition changed before letting her head fall into her hands, her elbows awkwardly propped on her knees. She needed a proper shower, a meal, and a change of clothes. Dragging herself off the stool seemed to be the hardest thing that she had done that day. By the time she had showered and changed, she decided that food could wait. She didn't even bother transfiguring one of the sofa chairs. She might have considered it, but as soon as she sat in the chair she was asleep before her head fell back against the cushions of the chair.

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><p><em>AN: And next... Snape wakes..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary: Hermione goes back to the Final Battle to save the one person who she believes shouldn't have been allowed to die, even knowing that she'll be ripping herself from every other timeline. AU from beginning of epilogue on.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own these characters. The epilogue wouldn't have been in Book 7 if I did.**

**A.N. (Veronika): More thanks to for beta-ing **(any mistakes that remain are my own)**. And being the inspiration for getting this done through the hectic-ness that is life right now. Sorry to all, this is my craziest month, updates will be more regular come May. Enjoy!**

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><p><span>I'll Give You All My Futures<span>

**Chapter 9: Awakenings**

"_Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it." – Albus Dumbledore_

**May-June, 1998**

The day after the battle was uneventful. Snape had barely flinched when she'd lifted the sleeping spell. She'd had enough energy by then to fully heal the wound on his arm, as well as fully heal the wounds on his leg and side. His neck was fully healed with the dittany as well, the skin smooth and completely without scars. The anti-venom had done the trick and his recovery would be much smoother than Mr. Weasley's had been.

As she went over him again, she saw some strange signs with her diagnostic spell, but she attributed them to him still recovering from blood loss. She didn't know the actual intricacies that were diagnostic spell results. She bit slightly on her lip as she looked over him. She'd gone over some of the healing texts that she'd brought with her. By all accounts, he should have been starting to come close to consciousness. Setting a charm to alert her if he was coming to, she went back to her notes that she'd spread out on the table.

She had a journal for every somewhat strange event that she'd found as evidence of things she might have done traveling back in time, as well as some on any reference she'd found to avid time travelers, the history of time travel, as well as healing texts. The most interesting text that she had found had actually detailed why Xenophilius had had the massive Time Turner in the first place. Flipping it open, she reread the paragraphs again.

…_the Davilius family was not only involved with the study of time, but also with the production of devices meant to aid their studies. They pioneered such devices as the Timeline Discrepancy Detector, the Pivotal Moment Pointer, and Tempocculars, which the Ministry of Magic still uses today to see all events that have occurred in a specific place in any time. _

_Their fascination with time seems to have originated with Heyman Davilius II. In the late 14th century, he created the first ever recorded time-traveling device, a simple spinning sundial which would transport its user back exactly one day to the same sundial. His grandson, Thomas Davilius, refined the device to be more mobile when, in 1451, he modeled his apparatus after the hourglass. It was several hundred years before anymore refinements were made to the device, but the Davilius family was not idle. In fact, most of the records the Ministry have today on the study of time come from the records of the Davilius family. _

_In 1650, Maria Davilius Dracona, the only daughter of the prominent Heyman Thomas Davilius III, pioneered a time-traveling device that was able to go back by hourly, instead of daily, intervals. It was her descendent, Lorcan Tempi Dracona, who expanded the time traveling opportunities to include years in 1701. It was at this point that the term "time-turner" was first found. These "time-turners" were crafted by the members of the Davilius and Dracona families, as well as a very tight-knit guild of their respective friends. Their products were sold for exorbitant prices, even in 18th century terms. _

_Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you ask, the Ministry of Magic was also gaining power quickly at this time. In 1720, they used the fear and hysteria brought on by Svren Razorteeth's__1__ spree to pass the Protection of Time Stream for Magical and Non-Magical Persons Act. This allowed the Ministry to seize all existing time-turners and all materials related to their construction from both buyers and crafters. While it is unknown how effective such ministry raids were, what is known is that those devices and supplies that were seized were sent to storage in the newly constructed Department of Mysteries. Now all such devices are controlled by the DOM and need to be petitioned for and signed out with a pass at the Regulation of Time-Travel Desk._

_..._

_1. This of course is a reference to Ravorteeth the werewolf, who utilized a time-turner to return to previously occurring full moons and infect Muggle and wizard alike at a higher rate than would have been possible if constrained to normal time. He was finally apprehended after 6 months, during which he lived through nearly 12 full moons._

Hermione snorted, collecting time-turners for everyone's safety indeed. That wasn't true now, she thought disgustedly. Putting all of them in the same place had only let them be exterminated easily.

Closing the book, Hermione drummed her fingers thoughtfully on the cover. Luna had been the one to tell her, quite proudly, that she had inherited several of her mother's family's heirlooms, one of which had been a Davilius Time-Turner that had been passed down through their family. It was one of the few unregistered in existence. Luna assured her that at least two of her great-uncle's family had at least one each, including other interesting bits that came from the Davilius family.

"It helped my mother a great deal," Luna had explained. "Her whole family descends from them you know. Their spirit of innovation was one of her greatest inheritances."

Setting _To Touch Time: Well-Known Travelers and Their Adventures_ aside, she frowned. Picking up one of the other texts, she paged through to the red marker that she'd found in it a few months ago.

_The _Mors Potestas_ potion , though taking fairly little time to brew, should be taken with extreme caution. Its original and intended use was for wizarding healers or combatants who needed one final push in order to accomplish their goals. Under no circumstances is it to be taken consecutively over long periods of time. If taken this way over three months, there is a chance that the user will slip into a coma in between doses. After four months of the potion's usage, the user will slip into a coma and never awaken. After this state has been reached, the wizard will perish within the week._

Hermione paused in her reading, stood, and walked over to her shelf of potions. Picking up the little bottle, she shuddered. From what she'd read, the withdrawal symptoms were just as nasty. Abruptly her wand buzzed in her pocket and she jumped. Immediately her heart began to pound as she hurried to the tent's bedroom, a shield charm readily formed in her mind, just in case.

As she looked, Snape didn't look different. Even his breathing hadn't changed. Going closer, Hermione still kept a careful distance. A slight hitch in his breathing was the only warning she had before his eyes snapped open. His eyes found hers immediately. A frown flicked across his face before his eyes flittered closed again.

"Of all people," he whispered, letting out a breath.

Hermione was frozen. That was nothing of what she'd expected. She had expected him to snap or yell, maybe even hex or curse her. At the very least, she had expected a trademark sneer. To all appearances though, it looked as if he had only fallen back asleep. Shaking herself, she crossed the small room to the bed, taking his wrist into her hand to take his pulse. She suddenly yelped and reached for his forehead with her other hand. He was burning up. Why hadn't her spell alerted her to that? Because she hadn't set it up for medical alerts, she answered herself. But why was he running a fever?

Panic seized her as she tried running diagnostics again. She wasn't cut out for this. She wasn't a Healer. She could treat him and had treated him because she knew what to expect. Suddenly she felt like a helpless child again as her brain frantically worked. She didn't do well under pressure, she never really had. What if she'd brought him back and saved him only to let him die?

"Stop it!" she hissed firmly at herself. "Get a hold of yourself. You've done this. You just need to figure out the problem."

Going back over him, she still found that the fever seemed to be the only symptom. He wasn't fighting an infection. There had to be something else! Fevers didn't just crop up without cause. And this one was starting to rise dangerously.

"Oh," she said her eyes wide.

Running from the room, jumping the short flight of stairs, she stumbled against the table as her eyes frantically started scanning the page she had just been on.

Hermione had thought it strange that the marker had been in this book in the first place. True, the potion had helped her when she had needed it, but she would probably have been able to succeed without it. She might have had to be more resourceful, but she would have been fine she was sure. But what if including that potion hadn't been to help her directly? What if it had been to show her what to look for? Her eyes scanned the pages until she found the symptoms of use.

_Frequent users will eventually begin to build up symptoms similar to jaundice which will only dissipate after the user has been without the potion entirely for a year. Sharp withdrawal from frequent and continuous use however must be treated with care, especially if potion use has continued semi-regularly for over a month._

Making a frustrated noise, Hermione skipped down to the list of symptoms.

…_and if use has continued to the point that the user has lapses in magical ability or is dependent on the potion for any working magic, weariness will begin immediately in between doses. A fever will immediately begin within 48 hours of the last ingested dose that can last for days, and in the severest, yet survivable cases, for up to a week. Sweating will commence within this period, especially around the face and hands. Body tremors will begin, and unfortunately after the user breaks the fever, body pain accompanied by hallucinations will…_

Hermione stopped reading. She had to be sure that this was his problem. Going quickly over to the potion shelf, she grabbed the Mors Potestas and hurried back over to Snape. Popping open the potion, she waved her wand over it with a quickly whispered, _aperio similis_. She flicked her wand again over his body and sure enough his body lit up. Traces of the potion seemed to be primarily focused in the area around his head and heart, with a light spattering around the rest of his torso and down his arms, mostly his right.

Summoning one of the blankets, she started lacing it with quick cooling charms to help bring his temperature down. Laying a normal blanket over his prone form, she layered the spelled blanket over it.

The sweats seemed to already be starting. If the potions book was anything to go on, she would probably be in for a long week. Checking again, his temperature was rising still, but it seemed to be stabilizing at an acceptable level. Normally there were potions to help combat fevers, but most potions that would help partially relied on the user's own working magic. Those suffering from _Mors_ withdrawal could have little or none to draw on. Administering those potions would only make withdrawal symptoms worse.

Hermione moved one of the kitchen chairs beside the bed. She had spelled the bedside table slightly larger so that she could look over her books and her notes. Her time research she set aside. It was the healing books she poured over now.

Magically caused symptoms were normally dangerous to try and suppress, so she was going to go by the book there. It was only dumb luck that the Blood Replenishing Potion hadn't managed to clash with the symptoms. He still had a low blood count. The fever wouldn't help the healing with that. It would only get worse, and now she was going to have to get fluid in him to help him live through the fever. She didn't want to think about what would happen if she would need to feed him when he started to hallucinate. After she thought about it, she moved to the kitchen.

Hermione had placed several meals into a stasis state with a revised version of a spell that was normally used to preserve potion ingredients. She didn't think that he would be able to eat the high protein diet that she'd stocked, but the broth from the meat would definitely help and would count as a fluid with some nutritional content. Too much of this was based on inferences though. It felt right, but she didn't like following her gut, she liked research. Disgusted with herself, she released the spell over a container of beef stew, the smell and plumes of steam immediately filling the tent. Smiling, she poured some of the liquid into a wide lipped mug.

In the end, Hermione had managed to get him to drink another dose of potion, along with some of the broth. Somewhere in the middle he had started muttering something and she had backed off quickly so she could go for her wand. She wasn't sure if she should have been that paranoid, but she remembered seeing him in a rage before, she had seen him duel before (it certainly hadn't been long enough to forget that) and she had certainly heard stories from Harry too.

A few hours passed as Hermione continued to read and make notes for things that she could use to treat the coming symptoms. The most dangerous was the potential for seizures that would come later. Flicking her gaze up to where he laid on the bed, she frowned. Leaving the room, she returned with a small bowl of cool water and a cloth. His forehead was already beading with sweat, partially because of the fever, but sweats were another symptom entirely. Cleansing charms were fine, but after a point of their use, skin could become dry and cracked. Biting her lip, she sighed.

Setting the bowl beside the bed, Hermione dabbed the cloth into the water, carefully wringing it out. She didn't really know why she was doing this. Snape just looked helpless now. However much of an illusion that might be, she could at least admit it to herself.

He flinched when the cloth touched his forehead and his eyes flicked slightly. That was the only warning she got as his hand shot out from under the blanket and grabbed her wrist. Flinching back, she gasped as her eyes met his which were now clear and wide open. For a beat, they just stared at each other as Hermione's heart pounded. His eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?" he rasped, his voice sounded rougher to her ears than the time she had been in the boathouse, but she wasn't sure exactly why.

Hermione looked confused as she said, "Hermione Granger."

Snape's eyes flickered back and forth between her eyes. Her face was too close for him to see them both at once. The suspicion was so clearly there that she didn't know what to say or do so she stayed frozen. After what seemed an eternity, his gazed flicked to the right where her wrist was clasped in his shaking grip. Releasing her quickly, she stumbled back, rubbing her wrist. For all that his grip had been weak and his arm shaking, he had been able to hold on tightly.

Letting his head sink back into the pillow, he let out a shaky breath, as if even that small action had tired him. Hermione watched him as he brought up a shaky hand, looking at it through hooded eyelids before reaching out and touching his neck. He frowned again with closed eyes as she could practically see him thinking as his fingers traced the skin that had been sliced, then where fangs had pierced.

"Where am I?" he asked, though it came off as more of a statement.

Letting out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, Hermione moved forward again and picked up the cloth from where she had dropped it on the sheet when he had grabbed her.

"We are in a wizarding tent, safe and away from the battle," Hermione replied, replacing the cloth into the basin. "In the Forest of Dean."

His eyes shot open again to stare at her, but she hadn't noticed as she moved around the bed to his right side where his arm was still shaking slightly on the disturbed covers. She moved to touch his arm, but when she saw him tense, she managed to touch only the sheets as she once again moved them and covered him once more. Looking back up to his face, she saw Snape watching her with narrowed eyes and open suspicion.

The clarity in his gaze didn't seem to want to last though as she watched it grow unfocused and he lost a bit more tension in his neck as he relaxed into the pillow. It was a strain, she realized, for him to follow her with his eyes.

"Sir?" she asked.

His eyes flashed again as his head twisted to regard her and sent her heart pounding again. How it was that he still managed to intimidate her while lying prone on a sick bed, was completely unknown to her. Screwing her courage to the sticking place, she cleared her throat.

"Do you think you can drink something sir?" she asked.

"There is nothing you can give me to relieve this…Miss Granger," he said, the pause was greatly exaggerated before her name, for what reason she couldn't guess.

"I meant just water sir," she said, powering forward anyway.

Snape looked like he was going to argue, but she saw his eyes flicker somewhat and he only nodded. Hermione turned to go for the kitchen when his voice stopped her.

"A moment," he said, managing to speak though he looked like he should have been passing out. "A shirt?"

Every word was growing hoarser. Hermione just nodded and moved to the chest at the foot of his bed. Besides his now obvious problem, she had been prepared for almost anything. Buying the clothing had only been slightly awkward. As she pulled a shirt free, she forced herself to not think about it. Laying it next to him, close enough that he didn't have to reach for it, she left.

As she descended the short stairs to go towards the kitchen, Hermione started mentally kicking herself, her cheeks still flushed and heart pounding. The shirt was almost identical to the one she had practically shredded off of him, which meant buttons. His arms had been shaking only moments ago, how was he going to manage them by himself? Still, Gryffindor courage or not, she couldn't bring herself to offer to help when she knew that he would probably refuse anyway. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering why the bloody _hell_ she had done this.

When she reentered the bedroom, she found Snape mostly upright. His entire body seemed to radiate exhaustion, but he had managed to prop the pillows up behind him and button the majority of the shirt. The cuffs let the white fabric spill limp over his hands which were barely a shade darker than the shirt. Even so, he managed to carefully watch her as she walked over with the glass of water. She had taken more time than necessary to allow him privacy for his attempt, and she was honestly shocked at his progress. There was tension around his eyes and the shaking intensified as she neared. She could tell why. His entire body was as tense as a bow string.

Hermione tried to act normal as she tried to hand him the glass of water, but his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold it. His second came up to steady it, his hands dropping a bit as he took the weight. She was glad that she hadn't filled it up completely, she thought as she carefully avoided watching him as he struggled to sip at it. Making a show of straightening the books and papers that she had set aside on the table, she tried to give him privacy while still being close enough to help if he needed. The silence seemed to be deafening. Frowning, she felt his eyes on her, but when she turned to him he was looking at the cup now in his lap.

"Finished sir?" she asked.

She had been expecting a sneer or at least a comment in reply, but he simply extended the glass and she quickly moved forward to grab it before his shaking let it slip to the floor.

"Do take your insufferable scribbling with you when you go, Miss Granger," he said, with only a hint of his trademark sneer.

Hermione didn't even have it in her to get angry at the quip. Frankly, it didn't even come close to his normal heat. It had been so long though, it was possible her younger mind had only exaggerated it. As she stacked her things to go, she shook her head to herself. She highly doubted it. Looking back at the bed, she saw that his eyes had fallen shut again. There was still a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his eyes still looked sunken, and she knew that it wasn't even close to how bad it might get. Biting her lip, she ran a diagnostic spell over him again. His fever was still raging, but it was also holding steady just under a danger level.

"And due restrain yourself from twitching your wand over me," Snape said, his eyes never opening. "As I said. There is nothing you can do."

"I know," Hermione replied as she tucked her wand into her pocket.

At least she got a response with that. His eyes flickered open and narrowed as he looked at her.

"Mors Potestas withdrawal," she said, holding his gaze in a calm, matter of fact manner.

He scoffed slightly, but the strength and hoarseness of his voice completely took the edge off of his next comment.

"Ever the know-it-all, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice trailing off as his eyes closed once again.

"Apparently, sir," she replied with a half-hearted grin that he wouldn't see now.

Looking at him, Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if he was already asleep. Sighing, she shook her head and left the room. That had been much…tamer than she had expected. Less dangerous certainly. Originally, she had planned on facing a man that had all of his magical faculties at hand. At least the onset of the fever from the withdrawal had guaranteed that she didn't have to face _that_ side of him yet.

Setting her things down on the table, she sat back in her chair. It was back to research. No matter what he said, there had to be something that she could use to help combat symptoms. The seizures associated with this withdrawal could be deadly, if not permanently damaging because they were normally sever and long in duration. If she saved him to only let a part of his brain die, she knew that it would be for nothing. Propping her head in her hands, she watched the words blur together on the page. She was still exhausted. But she knew that if Snape ended up like a stroke victim with permanent brain damage, she would have to be worried about him dying for the rest of her life and his. She couldn't see a man like him living long like that. Hermione doubted that he would want to, someone who was as fiercely independent as Snape was. She tried not to think like that.

Looking up, she saw that the blankets had been half pulled up, but he looked like he was sound asleep. Staying down the stairs, but never actually climbing them into the room, she set up another alarm to alert her if he woke. Another quick flick gently covered him with the blankets. He didn't stir. Giving herself a moment's indulgence, Hermione watched him sleep. Shaking her head, she turned away. She had things to do.

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><p><em>A.N. Should the next chapter be from Snape's POV? Any thoughts or shall we continue from Hermione's?<em>


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